Star Trek: Warlord, A Romulan Christmas
by Morphere
Summary: The fourth story of the Dreadnaught mark II class starship, the USS Warlord. Please review! I can use some constructive criticism. This story is now COMPLETE. Stay tuned for 'The War That Rages'
1. Chapter 1

"Well, you're certainly getting around better," Doctor Rass Dorrin said with an approving nod. He pointed to a biobed in the observation room. "Have a seat on bed one. I'll be with you in just a moment." He turned to the engineer who was seated in front of him. She was a young officer, barely out of the Academy, or so Commander Kirk thought. Her right hand looked like it had been severely burned, but most of the damage had been repaired. Doctor Rass was applying some kind of salve to it and wrapping it in a clean gauze. "Now, Ensign, what have we learned about plasma conduits today?" His tone was slightly mocking, but friendly.

It must have been a severe burn. There were tear marks staining her cheeks. Her red hair was a bit frazzled, as was the rest of her. Part of her uniform at the stomach had burned away. It already had a bandage applied to it. She seemed to be doing fairly well. Stephen recognized her as Ensign Crystal Halloran. Humbly, she looked at him and smiled. "Always make sure both shut off valves are tightly locked." She answered.

"And?" His voice was almost melodic as he finished with the bandage.

"Wait at least thirty seconds before closing the downside valve." She stared at him more intently, her smile broadened. "I was in a hurry."

He patted her hand. "And look where that got you. You saved thirty seconds on your project and spent an hour here listening to my jokes." She giggled. Dorrin helped her up. "Okay... off with you."

"Thank you, Doctor," she said sweetly. Ensign Halloran disappeared through the large, wooden doors of sickbay.

As he made his way into the observation room, Kirk was giving him a very curious look. "What?"

"I used to think you just THOUGHT you knew everything, Doc. I'm starting to think you really DO."

"What, the plasma conduit?" Dorrin asked, motioning at the door. Kirk nodded.

"You see enough injuries, you start to understand where they came from." Kirk nodded. Rass pointed to the bed. "Okay, up on the bed. Lie on your back, your head on the pillow."

"Right, Doc." Stephen replied. With a grunt of pain, he pushed himself up on the bed, head to the pillow. Dorrin was already pressing buttons to activate the lifesign montior.

Doctor Rass noted the grunt of pain. "Muscles still giving you problems?" He asked, looking at the board and adjusting its display.

"Yeah, a little. Mostly just stiff, though."

Rass squinted at the display. "Hmmm... the regenerated muscle tissue still looks sensitive. Have you been working out or exerting yourself at all?"

Kirk shook his head. "Been taking it easy, just like you said. Is something wrong?"

"Oh, no," Rass shook his head. "It's not unusual for major muscle groups to take awhile get contract to where they're supposed to. I'm just making sure." He pressed a few more buttons on the panel. "Good... good. Your body has accepted the regrown lung tissue and the rib replacements... and the swelling's down. All very good." He turned off the panel. "I'd say, for a guy that died twice, you're doing pretty well."

Kirk sat up slowly with another grunt. "Thanks, Doc." In the back of his mind, he was still a little disappointed to not have woken up on the other side of the 'Pearly Gates', but he accepted the fact that he must have more to do.

"Hang on a moment, and I'll give you something for the pain." Kirk nodded while Dorrin left the room momentarily and headed for his office. He returned moments later with a small, green wrapped box with a yellow bow on top. "I hear you'll be busy tomorrow." He handed the box to Stephen. "I may not see you tomorrow until late, so Merry Christmas." He smiled broadly. "Open it while I make you some pain relievers." He headed over to his medical replicator.

Stephen was genuinely touched. Of course, he had something for the Doctor, too, but it would have to wait until tomorrow, possibly the next day. "This was very thoughtful. Thanks, Doc." He started to open the box.

"You know..." Rass started, still mixing his medicine, "I really like this Earth holiday. We have holidays on Bajor, but nothing like this. Our holidays are more about rememberances, memorials, atonements, that sort of thing." He paused. "When you look at the grand scheme of things, I guess they're rather depressing." He pondered that for a moment. Perhaps that's one reason why Bajorans are usually thought of as uptight or dour. "Anyway, we don't have anything that involves gift giving." The replicator began dispensing pills, which he scooped up into a bottle.

Stephen opened the box to reveal a gray stone with silver rivulets, just smaller than his palm. The silver sparkled in the light. It felt rather strange to the touch... as if something was inside. "What is it?"

Dorrin turned back around with the filled bottle. "It's a Bajoran blessing stone. Whack it on the side of the bed."

Kirk did so. When he did, it began gently chiming three or four different notes for several seconds. The stone vibrated slightly to the tones. Stephen was impressed. "Wow."

"Tradition says if you chime it, then meditate on your problems, the prophets will give you an answer before the chimes stop." He extended the bottle of pills. "Here you go... something more pragmatic for your immediate problems. Take no more than two a day." He smiled.

"Thanks, Doc." Stephen replied, taking the pills. As he walked out the door, he turned around. "Merry Christmas." 


	2. Chapter 2

The overhead speaker in Stephen's room was gently playing "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" as he was putting a tray full of snacks on his coffee table. In the corner, his Christmas tree had five carefully, though not close to professionally, wrapped presents. In a few moments, there would be more. Thankfully, the medicine Doctor Rass had given him earlier was working pefectly. Other than minor stiffness, he felt almost perfect. He even shed his inflated white vest that helped support his midsection. To his pleasant surprise, it didn't bother him. Earlier that day, he had taken a moment to read his Bible and refresh his memory on what Christmas truly meant to him. Just as his family had done for as long as he could remember, he read Luke chapter two.

He reflected back on his minor depression at spending his first Christmas away from his family. His mind replayed last Christmas dinner. The dining table had been extended all the way into the living room. The smell of food almost overwhelmed the house. His mother didn't believe in replicated food, so everything had been cooked from scratch. She had even hickory smoked the ham for two days before cooking. His sister had been there with her husband and their three year old son. His two sets of aunts and uncles had been there with his five cousins. His mother and father, of course, were both there. His great uncle was there with his twelve or so family members. It was easy to lose track of them, since he hardly ever spoke to them. Even his grandmother had managed to make it... three months before she passed away. As usual, his Dad invited the ranch managers and their families. There must have been close to fifty people there for Christmas dinner and Mom was loving every minute of it. The vaulted living room, as always, was dominated by a three meter tall tree, trimmed to where you could barely see a single needle.

The door chime brought him back to the present. He shook his head, reluctant to clear the memories. "Come," he said finally.

The door opened. Tony was the first one through the door. "Merry Christmas, Steve!" He shouted melodically. He was carrying several presents of his own. Extremely grateful to be off duty, Tony had taken the opportunity to dress down. He was wearing his favorite Chicago Bears tee shirt, a pair of jeans, and some vintage tennis shoes. As he walked past the coffee table, he noticed the snacks. "Oooo!" He proclaimed. "Piggies in a blanket. Yum!"

T'Nia followed closely afterwards, carrying presents of her own. "Pleasant Christmas tidings, Stephen," she said calmly. Yet, despite her cool, vulcan exterior, there was almost a hint of a smile to her face. She had also dressed down for the occasion, but her outfit was a dark red robe with matching pants. She came in with bare feet, her favorite way to walk when off-duty.

Always the entertainer, Box came in last, a large sack slung over his large, crystalline abdomen, a red hat with white ball on his immense head, and somehow he had attached a white beard to his spider face. He sucked in air through a sack he made in the side of his body, then blew it out a makeshift larynx, his normal method of communicating with humans. "Hhhhmerry Christmas, Stephen," he said happily. As he walked in, he raised one of his back legs. He was holding mistletoe. He raised it high above his head and grinned widely.

Stephen laughed and stepped aside. He motioned Box into the room. "I have a strict policy not to kiss anyone with a beard. Get in."

Box shook, making chiming noises from within his torso, the Hamalki way of laughter. "Hhhhdid I hear someone say piggies in blanket?"

The evening was an absolute delight for everyone. Stephen wound up synthesizing two more trays of food, one exclusively for Box, who had always had a strange affinity for piggies in a blanket. They reminisced on their days at the Academy and finally spent some time getting re-aquainted with each other. They were surprised at how long it had taken them to finally get together for a decent period of time. Ever since they had all been transferred together, emergencies or shift changes had prevented them from all meeting. Any hints to Stephen and Tony's arguements had been long forgotten.

After the presents had been opened, Stephen was especially happy with his Denver Broncos helmet, signed by all the current players. Tony said he had excercised his ten minutes of fame after the battle with the Rapier to get it. T'Nia had given him an authentic California license plate that read "57 Vette".

T'Nia was 'quite satisfied' with the gift of a Theusian wind drum from Box. T'Nia was a collector of musical instruments, the more exotic and rare, the better. She was a rather accmoplished vulcan pipe flutist in her own right, and occasionally played as part of her calming meditation.

Tony was absolutely thrilled with the pre-release of his favorite jazz band, Out of Sync. Although it wasn't scheduled to be released until March, somehow, Stephen had gotten a hold of the initial mix. Tony and T'Nia had a mutual admiration for each others taste in music. She was especially 'benefited' when Tony dragged her back to his home town of Chicago to hear Out of Sync perform live at the Ampitheater. She had become an instant fan of human jazz ever since. Stephen, of course, absolutely refused to admit where he got the studio cut, but hinted that he wasn't completely ignorant of the influence of temporary fame.

Box was completely surprised by his present. It took all three of them pulling their respective strings in order to get it. The closest a humanish mouth could come was 'plek'. They looked like red blobs of jello the size of a softball. They even jiggled as they scurried on their dozens of tiny feet. They were completely smooth and round, save a semi-hard spike on their rump and a horned ridge across their front, where their four eyes were located. A pair of small pincers protruded from beneath the ridge. They were a delicacy on Hamal, but were very tempermental. Plek didn't survive temperature changes, graviational changes, nutrient changes, or any OTHER change for that matter. Transportation was a nightmare. The end result had been worth it, however. Box chimed happily away as he threw one, whole, into his mouth. The squishing sound it made as he chewed as a bit unnerving and watching the red form travel through his semitransparent body was even more disquieting. But, he was happy, and that's all that mattered.

Box's adjustment had been the most difficult. He had but one other ship assignment in his career and spent six years with them. Considering most hamalki never even leave their home planet, for him to be gone so long was quite a statement for him. Box hardly ever talked about his home. All his friends of over ten years had ever discovered was that he had a mother and father, and seventy brothers and sisters, only thirty of whom survived childhood. Box was a little off-beat in his humor, but quite innocent in many ways. The group decided early on to not only be his friend, but his protector. As terrifying and large as he looked, he was quite pacificial. The only reason why he even agreed to transfer to a Starfleet warship was because his friends would be on board as well. 


	3. Chapter 3

The foursome stayed until late into the evening. Realizing that two of them were due to start their shift in six hours, they broke for the evening. T'Nia and Tony bid good night and merry Christmas once more, then left for their quarters. Only Box remained, and as Stephen turned back from his door, he saw him cleaning up the room. He had plates in four of his arms and was making his way to the replicator.

"You don't have to clean up, Box." Stephen started, grabbing a couple of glasses. "I can clean up."

"Hhhhi wish to help, Stephen," Box replied. His giant, fang-filled mouth smiled. "Hhhhyou took a lot of time to make a nice evening for us. Hhhhit's the least I can do." With that, he tossed the plates into the replicator and pressed the 'reconstitute' button.

The two crossed paths as Stephen went to the replicator himself. "Well, I'm glad you liked it." He smiled warmly. "And thanks for the help." Stephen noticed he was still wearing the white beard. "You can take the beard off, you know."

"Hhhhactually, no I cannot," he replied, his smile fading somewhat. "Hhhhthe glue is a bit stronger than I anticipated. Hhhhi'm going to have to soak it for awhile."

Kirk bit his lip.

"Hhhhthis was your first Christmas away from your family, yes?" Box asked sincerely. He also took the opportunity to eat the remaining snacks on the tray he picked up.

Kirk's expression was thoughtful. "Yes, it is. I was thinking about that earlier this afternoon."

Box nodded. "Hhhhyou and Tony are very Hamalkian... family means much to you."

Stephen put more glasses in the replicator. "Yes, it does. I guess it's a good thing we have each other." He added, his voice sounding more cheerful. He pressed the reconstitute button.

Box began picking up the wrapping paper on the floor. "Hhhhi probably would have gone back to Hamal after I graduated, hhhhif I hadn't met you three," his statement had an air of nostalgia.

Kirk grew curious. "Do you regret staying away?"

box shook his head animatedly. "Hhhhoh, no. I would have missed out on so much. Hhhhi miss my family and wish to see them again, but it has been so much fun. Hhhhi cannot wait for more."

Stephen was finding it difficult to share Box's optimism for the future. He only accepted his most recent promotion because both Admiral Leonard and his former captain, Sam Ashby. Recently, he had found himself wishing he was back aboard the USS Grayson. For the most part, serving aboard a twenty year old partol ship was uneventful, but it was also comfortable. It was also low profile; something he had come to appreciate ever since he had been accepted into the Academy. Once the video specials on "the next Kirk legend entering Starfleet" had run their course, everyone had lost interest. That low profile position had helped keep him out of their interest. Regretfully, after the battle with the Rapier, he was now uncomfortably back in the news.

Box examined his friend carefully and tilted his head. "Hhhhyou are thinking of the past, yes?"

Kirk shrugged. "Yeah. It's just that this assignment isn't exactly what I thought it would be."

"Hhhhwhat do you mean?" Box asked, tossing the wrapping paper away.

Kirk sat down, his rib muscles beginning to ache. "You know... Captain Velasquez retiring , the high profile missions, Bolerov... all that."

Box hobbled over to Kirk on his twelve legs. "Hhhhyou never liked attention. Hhhhbut we can make a difference here. You said that yourself. Hhhhthat is why you wanted to be here, yes?"

Kirk was mildly defensive. "I know. I still believe that. It's just... it would have been easier if I had just stayed with the Grayson."

"Hhhhit is impossible to see the opportunities in front of you if you're too busy looking at the ones you passed by."

Kirk was impressed with that insight. "That's pretty deep, Box. Thanks for the advice. When did you start studying philosophy?"

Box's giant mouth smiled. "Hhhhi didn't. It was in my fortune cookie at Yu's restaurant." 


	4. Chapter 4

"Good morning, Romulans across the Empire. This is G'ethren, your humble severant and reporter for 'The Romulan Perspective', the only state-sponsored source for all your information needs. As promised, we are broadcasting to you aboard the United Federation of Planet's newest starship, the USS Warlord. As you may or may not have heard recently, and where have you been hiding if you haven't, this new starship, along with their flagship, the USS Enterprise, were integral in assisting the Romulan government in defeating a plot to conquer our empire by Reman extremists. I am in the transporter room along with my production crew for an unprecedented view of Starfleet's latest technology."

Captain Bolerov stood in his dress uniform next to the romulan reporter occasionally shifting his feet. He has addressed hundreds of crewmembers before, even spoken at a number of seminars. Standing before a camera broadcasting to hundreds of millions of romulans, however, made his skin crawl. In this thirty-plus years in Starfleet, he had been trained to never trust romulans. The treaty had always been tenuous and they were always looking for a way to undermine it. They were manipulative, cruel, deceptive and just plain evil. Now, here he stands, standing next to a romulan REPORTER of all people, and told to give him a TOUR of the place.

Lietenant Commander T'Nia stood next to Bolerov. As always, she was unphased by any of what was going on around her. She was, however, well aware of the small, but growing movement throughout romulus to learn more about their vulcan cousins. Most of her knowledge came from Stephen's 'godfather', Ambassador Spock. Stephen hadn't heard from him in months, suggesting he was, once again, underground somewhere on Romulus providing the enlightenment of logic. T'Nia had always had a great respect for Ambassador Spock. Getting to know him, even slightly, through her friendship with Stephen Kirk was yet another added benefit. Because of Spock's movement on Romulus, she was curious to know how her image would be received by her distant relatives.

Chief Engineer Tom Kelly stood next to T'Nia. He was loving every minute of this adventure. On his first mission, even though unofficial, he was given a medal before the Council of Federation Representatives. Now, he was going to be interviewed on planetary wide romulan television. He had already begun imagining what his statue would look like at the Academy Corps of Engineers building back in San Francisco. Tom assumed there would be a much larger statue in Australia. He wondered if this fame on Romulus would make any of the local ladies curious about dating a human. He ran his fingers through his wavy, dark blonde hair. Thoughts of his fiancee on Earth were weeks behind him.

The romulan reporter moved closer to Bolerov. "I'm currently standing next to Captain... help me get your name right..." Andrei turned to look at the reporter. No matter how many times he saw it, he still couldn't quite get used to the universal translator and how it worked. He could see G'ethren's lips moving one way and could hear him talk naturally, but his comm badge was relaying his same voice tones, but in english at the same time. Bolerov had to constantly remind himself not to look at the reporter's mouth. For this, he was grateful for the crew of the Devoras whom he met. They had taken the time to learn english. "it's Andrei Bolof?"

Standing in front of the crew and the reporter was a short, thin romulan holding along, black stick that was bent upwards at the end. Presumably, this was a microphone. Next to him was a romulan woman about the same height wearing a large device over her eyes. There were numerous buttons and sliders on each side. Atop the device was a bright light. Presumably, this was the camera. It was connected to a box attached to her belt. "Andrei Bolerov," the captain corrected.

"Bolerov, right." the reporter repeated. "And who do you have with you, Captain?" G'ethren asked brightly.

Andrei motioned to T'Nia. "This is my second officer, Lieutenant Commander T'Nia," he then motioned to Tom, "and this is my chief engineer, Lietenant Tom Kelly."

The reporter nodded to both of them. "Thank you for being on The Romulan Perspective on this Federation holiday."

"It's actually an Earth-based holiday and not celebrated by the entire Federation," Bolerov corrected.

The reporter considered that for a moment. "I see." His voice brighened once again. "Well, we'll be hearing more about this holiday shortly... from your first officer, is that correct?"

"Yes, that's right. Commander Stephen Kirk will be talking to you about Christmas." Bolerov nodded.

G'ethren turned to the camera. "Many of our older viewers are quite familiar with the first officer's great grandfather, the late James Kirk, who... at one point... was wanted for several charges against our empire as a war criminal. Posthumously, he was acquitted of those charges."

That was a nice spin, Bolerov thought.

"It's my understanding that the commander couldn't be with us right now because he's not on active duty. Is that correct?" the reporter turned back to Bolerov quickly.

"That's right. He was injured while we were helping to protect the romulan ambassador." Bolerov said proudly.

"From what I hear," G'ethren started darkly, "he was shot while trying to break into the computer system of a hijacked romulan ship. Would you care to comment on that?"

Bolerov considered his next words carefully. "I would say your information on the mission was incomplete." He forced a smile.

"Ah," G'ethren replied. "Well, maybe we'll get into more of that later. Now..." his voice perked up again, "how about showing us around this new ship of yours." His smile was bright and wide.

This is going to be the longest day of my life, Bolerov thought. 


	5. Chapter 5

The entourage headed out the transporter room door and down the hall to the right. The hallways had been refitted since the vessel's inaugural flight back at the Vega shipyards. The metal plating on the floor had been covered with a dark green carpeting. The walls were no longer military gray, but was now covered in a lighter gray cloth with medium green cross patterns above and below the elbow-high continual computer display. Even the lighting above was brighter. All this was to give the illusion the hallways were wider than they really were... an illusion the camera crew was dispelling while trying to keep up with G'ershen and Captain Bolerov. The reinforced arch-style supports every five meters wasn't helping.

"Captain," G'ershen started in his typical news-reporter voice, "tell me a little about this vessel." The black rod-mounted microphone was maneuvered in between the two gentlemen. Despite his age, Bolerov was almost a full seven centimeters taller than the reporter.

It must be an intergalactic constant, Bolerov thought. No matter what planet they are from, all reports sound exactly the same... and they made him want to toss them out an airlock. He was already done being nice. Bolerov was now down to polite. "What would you like to know?" He replied coolly.

"Well, I've been told this is the first Federation vessel to be officially classified as a warship. Is that true?" The reporter looked anxious, as if hoping to bait him. His almond-shaped brown eyes sparkled again.

"Not exactly," Bolerov replied flatly. He leaned his head closer to the mic, but continued looking down the hall. "This vessel is officially designated as a dreadnaught mark two class starship."

"So, vessels like this have been around before, hence the mark two classification." This question was worded slower.

"The dreadnaught project has been around for almost a century. The project was indefinately paused while other ship designs were put into production."

G'etheren nodded. "So, was the quest for alpha quadrant superiority the main reason why it was restarted?"

"What?" Bolerov began. It took Andrei a few moments for him to figure out the question. Once again, he was being baited. He shook his head. "No, no... nothing like that. Starfleet's main purpose has always been exploration. The recent wars showed us we need to defend ourselves, too. The dreadnaught two starships are meant only to keep the peace."

The reporter looked startled. "Wait... do you mean there's more than one of these?"

Bolerov hesitated. He knew they would be putting some kind of spin on this. He wasn't sure how to answer. They never should have let an old wardog like him be the PR person for this. "Well no..." he said after a pause, "the Warlord is the only dreadnaught two in in production, but, um... there are plans for more." They approahced the turbolift doors. Thankful to be changing the subject, his voice perked up. "Alright, we're heading to main engineering. It will be a bit cozy, so everyone make room." The group of six crammed aboard the octagonal turbolift cabin as the door slid shut behind them. Bolerov spoke to the ceiling, "Main engineering." The car began moving sideways, then down, then sideways again.

"Captain," G'ethren began slowly. "This ship looks quite impressively large from the outside, but it hardly seems large on the inside. Is the size of the vessel some kind of psychological intimidation?"

Bolerov cast him a truly confused look. "Where do you come up with these questions?" He asked finally. His mood had fallen from polite to tolerant.

The romulan reporter looked surprised. "Captain, I meant no offense. I thought it was a legitimate question. If you don't feel like answering..."

He quickly realized he was playing into G'ethren's hand. "No, no... I um... just... thought it seemed trivial. It's size is for several reasons. First, there's a dual hull system in place. The outer hull is ablative armor. Secondly, there's quite a bit of power being generated for the different systems on this ship. So, all the tubes, pipes, and conduits take up room, too." The turbolift doors opened... and not a moment too soon for Andrei's liking. As he stepped out, he concluded, "Also, quite a bit of this ship is automated, so those systems also require a lot of room." He motioned to everyone else, "Please, come this way." In his head, Bolerov envisioned walking them into the shuttle dock down the hall, then opening the door into space.

As the other passengers stepped out, the reporter commented, "I've also been told there are permanent static fields place over several areas of the ship to prevent others from detecting exactly what's going on inside the ship."

"Yes, that's true," Bolerov answered. He began leading them down the hall to the double doors of engineering.

"That's a lot of secrecy, don't you think?"

Bolerov was getting fed up with the questioning. He stopped and stared at the reporter intensely. "If that is what is takes to maintain an advantage over an enemy, then so be it. There are, after all, many species who pride themselves on keeping secrets, aren't there?" They came to the engineering doors. It was then that Andrei decided he needed to get away for a few minutes, but he wasn't about to leave these reporters in the hands of his lesser staff. Tom would most certainly say something he shouldn't, he thought. T'Nia, however, was vulcan. As he had come to realize, she was also quite calm under fire. She would serve well as a voice of reason in his absence.

Still feigning shock at Bolerov's last statement, Andrei made his move. "Ladies and gentlemen, there are some issues I need to deal with on the bridge. I shall return shortly." He put his large hands on T'Nia's shoulders. She turned and raised an eyebrow to him at the gesture. "Until then, I leave you in the capable hands of my second officer, Lieutenant Commander T'Nia." He spun her around. His expression was a forced smile. "Commander, I will return. Please see them to the designated areas we talked about earlier."

Her gaze never changed, but her brow raised further. He was ditching them with her. Apparently, the captain had enough and was now leaving a manipulative romulan reporter in her hands. She wasn't sure if this was a compliment or not, but the situation was upon her. "Yes, Captain," she replied calmly.

With that, he let her go. "I shall return, everyone. Good bye until then." He spun on his heel and left the stunned group behind as he made quickly for the turbolift.

"That was odd," G'eshren commented. He recovered from his shock quickly, apparently sensing fresh meat. His predatory smile returned. "Well, Commander, I believe you were going to show us main engineering." 


	6. Chapter 6

The group walked into the cavernous engineering room. Dominating the center of the room was a large windowed column nearly two stories high. Fluctuating rivers of super-heated plasma swam across the windows. A second pillar was partially protruding from the back wall. At least a dozen people were stationed about the room monitoring flow regulation, performing diagnostics, updating systems, or performing various other jobs. On the near wall sat the main power distribution center, a large, white six-legged octopus whose legs carried power to all the secondary distribution centers as well as the engines. A continual, low hum permeated the room, causing the romulan microphone operator to make a few adjustments. Tom Kelly, having recovered from the surprise of his captain suddenly deserting them, was now beaming like a proud parent.

"Lieutenant," T'Nia began, "why don't you give G'eshren an overview of our power capabilities." Her voice was calm and controlled. If she was at all uncomfortable about her new position with this romulan reporting crew, it didn't show. G'eshren looked almost pleadingly at him to say or do something.

"No worries," Tom replied with a smile. With a grand, sweeping gesture of his hands, he began, "Welcome to the power center of the Warlord. As you probably noticed, this ship utilizes four warp nacells. Most starships use one or two. We have two nacells dedicated to propulsion, life support, and other secondary systems. The other two nacells are meant specifically for our weapons systems and our shields." He concluded with a smile.

"That's a lot of power... what was your name again?" the reporter replied suspiciously.

"Kelly, Lieutenant Tom Kelly," he nodded, "and this ship uses a lot of power."

"Some of the crew of the romulan vessel your ship escorted back described this ship's weaponry as a barrage of green orbs. Could you give us more information on that?"

"Absolutely," Kelly beamed. This was the kind of publicity he had wanted. An entire planet was looking to him for information. As he started, he caught a quick glimpse of T'Nia's raised eyebrow and intense stare. G'eshren saw the quick visual exchange and tried to maneuver himself between the two, but it was too late. Tom had already gotten the message. "Well, um... it's a new type of cannon. It takes a lot of power, but can do an awful lot." His smile faded somewhat, knowing that 'Mother Hen' was right behind the reporter.

G'eshren sensed Tom wanted to say more. Eventually, he'd have to get this human off by himself. He couldn't help but make one final attempt to break through. "Eye witnesses say one volley destroyed one of our best warships."

Tom was a little surprised this guy knew so much. His curious look replaced his confident smile. "Well... its shields weren't up... and it was an older version of what the romulan fleet uses today..." he offered.

The reporter looked shocked again. "You mean you fired on a vessel whose shields were down?" G'eshren smelled blood.

Tom threw his hands up defensively, "No... not exactly. I mean... they were cloaked. They already attacked us several times."

Now THIS was getting juicy. "They attacked you several times? Yet your ship doesn't appear damaged at all. And how did you fire on a cloaked vessel? Can your ship detect cloaking technology? We were told that been fixed after the Dominion War."

"Well, our shields..." Tom started in defense.

T'Nia had enough. She quickly side-stepped G'eshren's interference and stepped in between them. Calmly, she raised her hand to Tom. Thankful for her interference, he silenced himself. "I'm afraid we aren't at liberty to discuss details of encounters before Starfleet has reviewed the records." She motioned with her hand. "We should move on."

"Wait a moment," G'eshren countered resolutely, "Romulus has a right to know more about this vessel that is in orbit. It's obviously capable of generating much more power than any Starfleet vessel before it. It is capable of destroying a warship in one shot, detecting cloaked vessels, and withstanding several attacks without any sign of damage."

Her voice was icy calm. "We are offering you a tour of this very ship for this very reason." She gently pressed her hand to his shoulder. "If you will please follow me, we will continue."

Reluctantly, he followed her lead. "I want to see these cannons Lieutenant Kelly spoke of." The main doors to engineering opened with a hiss.

"Details of our weapons systems are classified." She said flatly.

"Of course it is," G'eshren replied sarcastically. The camera crew followed behind. "What's next on the nonclassified tour? The bathrooms?"

She raised an eyebrow. "That wasn't on the initial itinerary, but if you wish to see one, I'm certain I can arrange it." 


	7. Chapter 7

Captain Bolerov retreated to the sanctuary of his quarters. Once the door slid quietly closed, he headed to the bookshelves in his living area by the replicator. The small bookcase next to the ceiling high bookcase was nothing more than the door to a cooler with bookcovers across the front. He opened it and withdrew a bottle of vodka. Taking a glass from the nearby kitchenette, he poured himself a good sized shot and downed the serving as he snapped his head back. Moving over to his living area with glass and bottle still in hand, he allowed himself to collapse into his favorite leather recliner.

"I never signed on to be a public relations person," he thought out loud. "I'm just an old wardog." He poured himself another shot. He looked at the antique Earth globe mounted on a wooden pedestal. "I wonder how much easier it must have been when all we had to worry about was our own, little world." He drank down his next shot and let out a gasp. Russian vodka was not something to be taken lightly. He blinked several times as he tried to quell the burning sensation in his throat.

He actually felt badly for the crewmembers he had left behind. He just couldn't take it any more. Although he had every confidence in T'Nia, his mind kept wandering back to Kelly. He might lose his cool and say something foolish. Andrei knew he needed to get back down to the tour, but he just couldn't. He needed just a few more moments of solitude. He took a third shot of vodka, the burn even stronger this time.

Bolerov reclined his chair back a bit and let his head relax back into the overstuffed top. "I'll stay here another five minutes, then head back," he said to himself. He allowed his eyes to rest for a moment. Soon, he was dreaming of a day, not long ago, when a romulan aboard a Starfleet vessel would have been shot on sight. 


	8. Chapter 8

Like computerized clockwork, the news crew was taken to the officers' dining hall, one of the holodecks, the shuttle bay, the port side docking bay, the sickbay, and the bridge. It had taken G'ethren two questions to realize T'Nia wasn't going to divulge anything of value, so he was content asking typical entertainment-style questions. He thought he had an opportunity with the bajoran doctor, until he found out, the hard way, that Doctor Rass was more interested in talking about himself than anything juicy. Hopefully, their final stop would be much more entertaining... a trip to Commander Kirk's quarters for a discussion on the Earth holiday of Christmas.

T'Nia was still a bit perplexed by her captain's absence. Still, she thought it best to not show it. She answered all G'ethren's questions politely, but intentionally left vital information out. Such was proper policy, after all. Still, there was something... disquieting... about this reporter. Through her limited telephathy, she could sense he was looking for some kind of angle. His purpose aboard the Warlord wasn't merely to gain insight into Romulus' new allies. T'Nia wasn't sure what his true purpose was, but it certainly warranted the captain's presence. As the four approached the door to Stephen's quarters, she determined it would be best for her to remain during their interview. She knew Stephen well... well enough to know that, although he had a quick wit about him around his friends, the same couldn't be said when he was in unfamiliar settings. Considering his desire to stay OUT of the spotlight, this would be one of the most unfamiliar settings he would ever find himself in.

She pressed the button to Kirk's doorchime. A few moments later, through a small speaker below the button came Stephen's voice. "I'm here... come on in." The door slid silently open.

T'Nia backed her way through the door, preventing the news crew from following. "If you'll permit me... I wish to ensure he is prepared. It will only take a moment." She took another step in the door, then with the press of a button, she closed it.

Kirk had been pacing for at least a half hour, which was evidenced by the wear marks in his living room carpeting. His calm facade faded quickly to a look of mild desperation. "Where's the news people?" He asked, half hoping they had changed their minds and left.

"They are just outside, Stephen," she replied calmly. "I wanted to make certain you were alright."

Kirk shook his head. "I must have been in some kind of drug induced delirium to think I could go through with this." Nervously, he rubbed his hands together.

She stood in his path and grasped his arms. Her look was thoughtful. "Have you prayed?" Normally, such a question wouldn't have even entered the mind of a vulcan. T'Nia, however, was different. She had been around Stephen long enough to know the benefits of prayer as far as he was concerned.

He stopped as T'Nia grabbed him. "For just a sec, yeah," he nodded. "I guess it didn't help much."

"Might I suggest you do it again?" Her question sounded calm to the casual listener, but Stephen detected a hint of concern.

"What... what's the reporter like?"

"He's very... romulan." T'Nia replied matter-of-factly.

Kirk rolled his eyes. "Fabulous." He sat down quickly on his couch and reached for his Bible, which he planned to reference during the interview. He took a deep breath. "Okay... give me a ten count, then let them in."

"Yes, Sir." T'Nia replied officially. She turned for the door.

"Tee... " Kirk started, his voice softer and calmer.

She turned her head back. "Yes, Sir?" She knew what he was going to say.

"Thanks for having my back." No matter how uncomfortable he had been since taking this assignment, his constant had been his friends. He had been relying on them rather heavily for strength lately. Thankfully, as they have for so many years already, they were there for each other. Sure... he and Tony had a brief spell while adjusting to their new positions, but that was resolved rather quickly. Of course it took him almost dying...

She turned her head to look Stephen straight in the eye. "I always will," Some of her older vulcan acquaintences had found it odd for her to take such a 'liking' to humans. For her, there was a special warmth, a special bond, that she had for Stephen, Tony, and Box. It was difficult to explain. Sometimes, it was friendship. Other times, more motherly. Perhaps it was because she was in her mid forties. Perhaps she truly had spent too much time with humans. Her fianceé had voiced his concern on many occasions that she had become contaminated. She begged to differ. Looking at her friend, she knew why... they needed her. What she found so difficult to admit was she needed them, too. She bowed her head slightly, then turned back towards the door.

Stephen bowed his head and said a prayer he had found himself saying many times in his life. "Show me something I can use to help me." With that, he picked up his Bible, and dropped it on the table. It opened to the book of Psalms. Looking at the first thing on the page that caught his eye, he read Psalms 46:10... "Be still and know that I am God;" 


	9. Chapter 9

G'ershen entered Kirk's quarters with an almost comical grin. "Ah... the human of the hour. Commander Stephen Kirk." As the reporter walked in, the other two were close behind. T'Nia followed after them.

Kirk smiled as the entourage came in. Clearly, he still appeared uncomfortable. "Come in, everyone." He motioned to his couch and chairs in the living area.

The romulan reporter offered his hand. "G'ershen of The Romulan Perspective. A pleasure." Kirk took his hand and shook it. G'ershen gave a very strong grip in response, then sat down. "My crew," he offered off-handedly as he motioned to the sound and video people. Then, in turn, sat down, too. Finally, Kirk sat down. T'Nia opted to stand by the door. "I'd like to thank you for spending time to talk to us. I understand you're still recovering from some injuries you suffered during the altercation with the reman terrorists."

Kirk nodded. "I'm recovering quite nicely. Our doctor did a great job. I hear you want to know a little about our Christmas holiday." Stephen tried his best to sound light. He sat back in his chair.

"We certainly do, Commander," G'ershen replied in a sales-person voice. "But in a few moments. First, we'd like to know exactly what happened to you. I've heard that you were shot while aboard a romulan ship. Is that right?"

Where did this guy get his information, Kirk wondered. Instinctively, he sat forward, a look of mild confusion on his face covered the stiffness and pain he felt while moving. "Well, no... that's not exactly true." He started.

"Then, you weren't shot aboard a romulan ship?" G'ershen countered.

"Well, yes... but I wasn't shot by romulans. Remans were flying the ship."

G'ershen feigned intense interest. Perhaps he could get somewhere with this human after all, he thought. "How did you know there were remans aboard?"

He was starting to get flustered, but remembered an easy way out. "I'm sorry, G'ershen... I'm not allowed to discuss the details of a mission until they've been declassified by Starfleet." He shrugged helplessly.

G'ershen's smile faded a bit. He cursed to himself. "Well, here's hoping Starfleet will let us in on what happened. There are a lot of unanswered questions out there." G'ershen figured he better get Kirk to relax a bit and let his guard down before asking any more hard questions. "But... the main reason why we're here. Tell me about this human holiday called Christmas."

The question had its desired effect. Kirk instantly looked calmer. "Okay... where to begin." His mind was awash with different ways to start. "Well... there are many religions on Earth. Christmas comes from a particular religion called Christianity. We believe there is a single God, not many different gods, and He controls everything in the universe."

G'ershen chuckled. "One god for everything? He must be a busy guy."

Kirk smiled. "I guess He is. Well, throughout human history, God tried many different ways to tell us how we're supposed to act towards Him and towards each other, but humanity kept screwing up His instructions."

G'ershen mused, "Hmmm, humans difficult to handle. I think certain members of our audience can relate to that."

Kirk wasn't appreciating the snips this reporter was taking. To his own surprise, he chose to take the diplomatic approach. "Here's hoping opportunities like this will fix that image." His brief, former captain, Lydia Velasquez would have been proud.

G'ershen smiled. "Here's hoping. Anyway, you were talking about the humans being stubborn."

Kirk shook his head and smiled. This guy was just going to get his digs in. He'd have to just roll with it. "Right. So, since God knew what humans were like, He decided to send an incarnation of Himself to show us personally what it meant to live a good life. Christmas celebrates the birth of that incarnation." He nodded, quite proud of the definition he had just given.

G'ershen's 'sincere' look was obviously fake. "What an interesting story. But... if you don't mind my asking... why didn't your god just destroy the ones who perverted his teachings?"

Kirk wrinkled his nose. This reporter was starting to get into aspects of his religion that went far beyond the Christmas holiday. "Um... I'll just give you the short answer. To go in depth would take awhile. In my faith, God wants people who will choose to follow Him. That means He also gave us a choise to NOT follow Him. He doesn't demand obedience, He wants a relationship. Does that answer your question?"

G'ershen nodded, but looked a little confused. "Perhaps we could schedule a debate some other time on our different faiths. So... tell me about this beautifully decorated tree you have. I take it this is part of the celebration?"

Kirk nodded, but his side was starting to hurt again. "I'm not really sure about the origins of the Christmas tree, but my family has always had one."

"I see... you're close to your family?" G'ershen asked.

It seemed like an innocent enough question, but something about how he asked it tingled the back of his neck. "Yes, I am." Out of eyesight from everyone but Stephen, T'Nia's eyes narrowed.

"You know, one of the most notorious war criminals in Romulan history was a relative of yours... speaking of your family." G'ershen's voice deepened, his gaze became more intense. He had been waiting for this moment for several reasons.

This was what G'ershen had been waiting for, Kirk thought. "That was a long time ago."

Wrong answer, G'ershen commented to himself. "Not for some of our viewers, Commander."

The pain in Stephen's side was starting to pale in comparison to the pain in his head, which was matching the pain in the neck seated next to him. The LAST thing he had expected so far from Starfleet was yet ANOTHER person trying to compare him to his great grandfather. Stephen's eyes narrowed. "Look, I thought you wanted to talk about Christmas, not insult my family or blame me for things my grandfather did. I'm not him. I'm nothing like him and I don't want to BE anything like him." Without realizing it, Kirk was glaring at him.

Gotcha, G'ershen thought. He smiled evilly. "And yet, you're in Starfleet, just like him. You graduated from the Academy, just like him. And... at thirty-four years of age, you've commanded a starship, just like him."

Kirk had been had... on a global-wide interview, he had been had. His expression softened. "You know," he started quietly, "we came here as a gesture of peace."

G'ershen's long face turned smug. "I think not, Commander. I think you came here to prod us into capitulating to the mighty Federation. You flaunt your big, new ship in front of us. You show us the descendent of one of our worst enemies is in a command position. You force our own ships to sit back while you show off how clever you are at defeating our own technology. It's nothing more than a scare tactic, isn't it, Commander Kirk?"

The worst part was; in Kirk's mind, that was pretty close to what he thought Bolerov's reasons were. He sat there, silent, trying to think of the right words to say.

T'Nia had enough. Her friend was in troube. She stepped forward and got between Stephen and the reporter. "I believe this interview is over. Your request was to talk about earth holidays, not to politically undermine a peace effort." She began ushering them towards the door.

As G'ershen rose, he countered, "I was brought here for the truth, Lieutenant Commander. I should have known I wouldn't get it from the Federation." He turned towards the cameraman, giving him the smug look of a successful mission. "Citizens of the Empire," T'Nia continued moving them towards the door. "beneath such grand gestures and innocent celebrations lies a sinister plot. You be the judge. This is G'ershen for The Romulan Perspective." Stephen's door hissed shut behind the foursome.

Kirk buried his face in his hands as he leaned forward. "Oh, God... what have I done?" 


	10. Chapter 10

"Thank you," G'ershen said melodically, "this has been most entertaining." He and his film crew stopped resisting their departure as soon as Kirk's door closed.

T'Nia, who was walking in front of them now, shot him a sideways glance. "I fail to see how jeapardizing a possible true and lasting peace between the Empire and the Federation is 'entertaining'." They came to the turbolift door, which slid open moments later. She motioned for the three to enter, then followed behind herself. "Transporter room one," she said aloud. The cabin began its horizontal and vertical trip to the back of the ship.

"Well, Commander," his attitude reminded her of someone accepting an award, "you know how it is. Everything's political. There is a growing voice in our new Senate who want to embrace cooperation with the Federation. We were sent to make them think twice, that's all," he smiled widely.

The door to the turbolift opened. T'Nia walked them down the hall, then to the left. "Attempting to manipulate the truth for political gain is illogical." She had dealt with this to a lesser extreme with humans. She still found it... disconcerting. "The truth should simply be the truth."

"Perhaps on Vulcan, Commander, but vulcans have been Federation pawns for decades." Perhaps he could get some kind of reaction from her with that statement, he thought.

She raised her eyebrow. "We are not pawns of the Federation. We are founding partners. As such, we have voiced our dissents freely and when necessary."

He almost looked disappointed at her lack of reaction. "It doesn't matter to me, Commander. I'm simply a reporter. I'm told what to report on and I do it." They came to the transporter room door. It slid open with a hiss. They walked inside.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't THAT the definition of a pawn?"

The romulan press trio stepped onto the transporter pad. "I guess that depends on which version of the truth you believe, Commander." He smiled.

Speaking to this person was exhausting, T'Nia thought. He was entirely too wrapped up in distorting the truth, rather than reporting the truth. Perhaps this interview wasn't such a good idea after all. She wondered whose idea it was to authorize it in the first place. Her thoughts momentarily went back to her captain. His abrupt departure was partly the reason for this chaos. She made a mental note to discuss his administrative policies with him later. As the transporter operator entered the reporter's originating coordinates, she made one final statement. "For the record, this vessel, its crew, and it governing body are dedicated to peace."

As the sparkling pinpoints of the transporter beam began dotting his body, he replied, "I don't care." 


	11. Chapter 11

Bolerov awoke with a start to the annoying sound of his comm badge beeping. For a split moment, he realized he had dozed off and hadn't meant to. His shot glass had fallen, but thankfully was unharmed. His precious bottle of vodka, however, had fallen from his sleeping hand and spilled all over the carpet. "Chort!" he cursed in Russian.

His comm badge beeped again. "Captain Bolerov, are you alright?" a female voice came across his badge. He didn't immediately recognize the voice.

Still trying to full awaken, he tapped the badge. "Yes, I'm fine... um... what is wrong?"

"I thought you should know the romulan reporter and his crew have left, Sir." He eventually recognized the voice as belonging to Lieutenant Commander T'nia.

If he didn't know better, he would have sworn she almost sounded annoyed. "I suppose that's for the best, Lieutenant Commander." He replied, wiping the sleep from his eyes. "Did all go well?"

"Not entirely," she replied. "G'ershen admitted to me that he was on some form of mission to help dissuade certain politicians from allying themselves with the Federation. Many of his questions were pointed, devisive, and inflamatory."

Rubbing his temples, he straightened up in his chair. "Well, we predicted something like that would happen. Did you walk them through the EMP field as ordered?"

"Yes, Sir. All their electronic equipment should be nonfunctional. They will be most upset when they learn their equipment no longer works.

Bolerov smiled knowingly. "I realize that, Commander. Leave that to me. I shall meet you on the bridge momentarily. We'll determine our next move then."

"I thought you were heading to the bridge to deal with some 'issues'."

Oh, yes... that was the excuse he used, wasn't it... "I was... sidetracked. I will be there shortly. Bolerov out." He tapped his badge. Andrei was about to tap his comm badge again to ask about something, but then forgot what he was about to ask.

Looking to his left, he examined the large puddle of vodka on the ground next to him. He was genuinely disappointed. True Russian vodka was hard to come by. Most alchohol on Earth was made of that disgusting synthohol. Slowly, he stood up and shuffled to the bathroom where he retrieved a handful of towels. Walking back, he tossed them carelessly over the puddle and started stepping on them. There was no doubt about it... he couldn't handle vodka like he used to. He couldn't do many things he used to. Getting old sure wasn't what it was cracked up to be, he thought disgustedly. Remembering what he wanted to confirm, he tapped his comm badge again. "Captain to Lieutenant Davies."

Elaine Davies' voice popped across the small speaker. "Davies here, Sir."

Bolerov continued stepping on the towels. "I trust you were able to intercept the transmissions from our romulan reporting team?"

"Yes, Sir. I made copies of everything that was said, then scattered the rest, as ordered."

Bolerov nodded. "Then none of their transmissions ever reached Romulus?"

"All they got was static, Sir."

"Perfect. Good work, Lieutenant." Slowly, he bent over to gather the wet towels, the almost empty bottle, and the glass.

"Sir," she sounded hesitant, "I'm sure they're waiting for the broadcast." He crammed everything into the replicator and reconstituted it. "What do we tell them?"

Bolerov thought for a moment. "If they contact you before I get to the bridge, just tell them you don't know what happened and that I'll investigate the problem personally."

"Understood, Sir."

"I shall be on the bridge shortly. Bolerov out." He turned towards his door. It would be a cold day in hell before a romulan would outsmart him. 


	12. Chapter 12

"The Romulan Senate appreciates your willingness to remain a few days more as a safety precaution." Senator Relor's smiling face filled the main viewscreen. His hair was short and gray and his skin wrinkled; reflecting the fact he was one of only three senators to survive the assassinations. He had been on leave when the thalaron bomb went off in the senate meeting room. His voice, though old and raspy, had the same slimy melodic tone that Bolerov had come to expect from romulan politicians.

"I am glad we can be of service, Senator," Bolerov forced a smile. In his opinion, they had already overstayed their welcome. The conversations he had endured with the network president had been far less pleasant than this one. "Starfleet has given us permission to remain for up to five days." And if anyone asked, he'd be able to tell them, down to the second, when they'd be breaking orbit.

"Fine, fine," Relor nodded. "I'm certain that with the Warlord nearby, those reman terrorists won't come near us. You're giving us ample time to re-establish our government." Relor's expression turned a little more playful. "I'm sorry to hear that the interview didn't work. I hear there were technical difficulties?" He sounded quite sarcastic.

"I'm afraid so, yes." Bolerov's voice became almost playful, too. "But who would have guessed our own internal security system would start malfunctioning again, rendering all that equipment useless?"

Relor mocked a look of concern. "I know... and despite your assurances that your sensor damping fields wouldn't prevent those transmissions from leaving..."

Bolerov nodded again. "I know. We shall have to look at that. I could have sworn they told us it would have been fine."

Relor looked sly. "Especially since you and I are talking just fine. It IS strange."

Bolerov smiled. He had been found out. Obviously, Relor knew. He was interested to see what the crafty, old senator would do with the knowledge. "I hope this little glitch won't damage our new relations." He offered cautiously.

Senator Relor sat back in his chair and scoffed. "It was just an interview, Captain," he replied. "nothing more. I'm sure we'll be in touch later. Thank you again for your continued assistance, Captain." The front viewscreen dissolved to black with the romulan emblem in the center. Within moments, Elaine switched it back to view the area in front of the ship.

T'Nia turned from her tactical station to Captain Bolerov. "Obviously, he was aware that our sabbotage of their interview was intentional, Sir."

Bolerov gave a thoughtful look, while staring at nothing in particular. "Obviously." He pursed his lips.

"I don't understand," T'Nia was trying to grasp what had just transpired. The logic eluded her. "It was a political move to discredit this new alliance. This whole series of events is illogical to me."

Bolerov smiled and let out a deep breath. Kids, he thought to himself. Perhaps there was a reason why he was put on this ship after all. "Lieutenant Commander, it's like playing chess. Sometimes, you have to put a piece at risk in order to see how your opponent will react. Whether your exposed piece takes an oppoent's piece is irrelevant. It served its true purpose." His knowledge of romulan culture would, no doubt, help convince his crew that he deserved to command this ship. It should also help smooth over his unexcused absence from the tour yesterday. If T'Nia had been upset by her unexpected assignment, she didn't mention it.

T'Nia had chosen to let go of her discomfort with the romulan news crew yesterday. Despite their attempts to discredit the Federation overtures, Captain Bolerov had outmaneuvered them. Still, there were lingering pieces of the puzzle that eluded her. Her look of confusion remained. "But... whose side is Senator Relor on? Is he for, or against, the alliance?"

Bolerov shrugged. "I have no idea. But... if I was a betting man, I would bet he doesn't, either. He's probably waiting to see which side has the better chance of furthering his career."

T'Nia shook her head. "It seems illogical to me to put your world at risk for the purpose of benefiting your career."

Bolerov raised a partially mocking eyebrow. "Who said politics was logical?" 


	13. Chapter 13

"Apparently, the captain's bluff worked. So far, there have been no repercussions." T'Nia said matter-of-factly as she sipped her spice tea. She sat comfortably on the couch in Stephen's living area with her feet, devoid of uniform boots, propped atop his coffee table.

Kirk let out a sigh of relief and took a long drink from his cola. "I'm just glad none of that got out. I can't BELIEVE I let him get to me like that."

"As I told you before, his mission was to elicit such a reaction. From the reaction of the others he interviewed, I would say he was quite skilled."

Stephen propped his legs up, too. His side was still stiff, but the pain was minimal. "Still, I thought I knew what I was going to say. As soon as he threw me off, I just didn't know how to recover." He shook his head.

T'Nia took another drink. "It's because you lack confidence." She eyed him intently. Most humans were quite put off by vulcan candor. Thankfully, she knew such wasn't the case with her friends.

Stephen snapped his head up at her. "I do not." He replied flatly.

She cocked her head. "In situations where you are comfortable, no... you do not lack confidence. In new and unfamiliar circumstances, yes you do. Vulcans have been both impressed and perplexed by the power of human instinct. Your instincts are particularly keen. For some reason, you continue to debate them."

"I do not," Kirk said defensively. His expression became more thoughtful. "do I?"

T'Nia nodded.

"Why didn't you mention this before?" He slowly set his glass down.

She raised an eyebrow. "You never asked."

"I didn't ask THIS time... did I?" His mind struggled to remember his past few sentences.

"Close enough."

Kirk found himself staring down at the coffee table. He usually had fairly good ideas, but when the situation changed, as it changed aboard the reman warbird a week ago, he was never able to compensate. Kirk had attributed that as proof he wasn't leadership material. He sat back in his chair and contemplated what his friend had just said.

"If you asked my advice... I would merely suggest that the next time you're faced with a crisis or challenge, immediately follow your instincts." She concluded thoughtfully. She finished her cup of tea.

"That's interesting advice, coming from a vulcan." Kirk smirked.

"I certainly wouldn't heed such advice myself," she countered quickly, "but, then again; I'm not the second in command. There may come a time when you will have to act quickly."

Kirk looked curiously at his friend. "What do you mean?"

T'Nia was conflicted in telling Stephen about Bolerov's unscheduled departure from the tour. He already had enough on his mind, and he was still on medical leave. Still, he needed to know. "It's probably nothing, but the captain left rather abruptly during the interview with the romulan reporter."

"Oh?" This piqued Kirk's curiosity.

"I found it curious. He did not return for the remaineder of the tour. He said he would attending to some matter on the bridge, but when I finally contacted him, he was not there."

"Yeah," recalling the events earlier that day, "I thought it was weird he wasn't in here." He snapped his fingers. "Remember when he blanked out on us at the beginning of the fight with the warbirds?" She nodded. "I wonder what's going on." His mind started wandering off to alternatives... from simple explanations like lack of sleep, to the more exotic, like non-corporeal entities taking over his body.

"I do not know. Admiral Leonard or Doctor Rass would be the most likely people to discuss this with."

"Yeah, but let's not go there just yet. I mean, after all, he could just be really tired for all we know." The last thing he wanted to do was make Bolerov mad at him again. They had just started smoothing things over. Trying to incite a mutiny would be a step in the wrong direction. Besides, as long as Bolerov was in charge, HE wasn't.

"I yield to your wisdom, Commander," T'Nia replied. Looking back, it did seem rather minor. Perhaps Bolerov was trying to get her to step up into more of a leadership role as well. Until the rest of the crew came aboard, she was the second officer, after all.

The door chime pleasantly rang its four notes. "Come," Kirk called at the door. 

The door slid open to show a petite, but well curved romulan woman in a brown robe with a dark red tunic underneath. She smiled sweetly. She was holding an unlabled bottle of light brown liquid. "Good latemorn," she said with a mild romulan accent as she walked in. She then saw T'Nia seated on the couch next to him, her feet propped. T'Nia was putting her boots back on. The romulan woman looked a bit embarassed. "Oh! I'm sorry... I didn't know you had company."

T'Nia looked briefly at the woman, then back to Kirk as she finished putting her boots on. Centurian T'osa had been in rather frequent contact with Stephen for almost a month... ever since the ill-fated romulan/Federation dinner. She was leary of this romulan and would have preferred to stay, but it was not proper for human courtships to have bodyguards. "I was about to leave myself. The commander and I had a few crew-related issues to discuss."

"Oh?" Kirk was a little surprised by T'Nia's quick departure. It reminded him of the quick departure she said Bolerov made with her. 

T'osa looked at the pair curiously. "I could come back... it's alright."

Her boots on, T'Nia stood. "Not at all." She turned to Kirk. "If you require anything more, contact me. I shall be retiring to my room." She turned back to T'osa. "On this ship, it is evening, and some of us..." she gave one final glance back to Stephen, "have to work in the morning." She nodded her head. "Good evening to each of you."

"Good night, T'Nia." Kirk said, gently shaking his head. What did she think was going to happen?

"Good evening, Lieutenant Commander," the centurian added. She didn't mean to offend Stephen's friend... or was she more than a friend? 


	14. Chapter 14

Stephen stood to greet T'osa as the entry door slid closed. "Come on in," he said with a smile. "Sit down."

"Thank you, Stephen," she replied sweetly. She sat down and placed the bottle on the table. "I sincerely hope I haven't offended your friend."

"Oh, she's not offended. That's just her way. Vulcans are... well... different."

"Good," she replied hesitantly. She lowered her head, but looked up at him. "Forgive me for asking, but are you two courting?"

Kirk's eyes momentarily bugged. He bit his lip. He wanted to laugh, but to T'osa, that was probabaly a legitimate question to ask. "No," he replied eventually, "we're just old friends."

T'osa's face lit up again. "Oh, I see... good." She caught herself. Oops. "I mean... not good... but... your language confuses me sometimes." She started to look embarassed again.

Kirk chuckled. Yep... no doubt about it. She was a spy. Pity, she was really cute and she seemed very nice. Unless... what if she really did like him? That would change things dramatically... and for the better. He decided to change the subject. He pointed to the bottle. "What's in the bottle?"

Grateful to be changing the subject, she smiled again. "It is called vishri. It is similar to your cola, but it lacks the bubbles that tickle my nose."

Great, he thought... flat, romulan Coke. Perhaps there was a truth serum in it... or poison. He relented... or probably flat, romulan pop. That would be bad enough. He stood up. "I'll get a couple of glasses."

"Please and thank you," she replied. The stress was starting to get to her. She wouldn't be able to hold this up much longer. T'osa was going to have to tell him the truth... and soon. She started looking nervously around the room for listening or video recording devices... not that she'd see them.

He grabbed a couple of glasses from the replicator and turned around to see her eyes darting. That was odd. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Her eyes jumped back on him. "Yes. Thank you." Her smile was forced.

He walked back over to her and sat down stiffly in the chair next to her. "No... what's wrong?"

She wasn't meaning to be that obvious about her discomfort... well, maybe she was. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened her amber eyes, she stared intensely at Stephen. "Do you like me?"

There was something odd about her voice. The question threw him off, too. "What?"

She swallowed. If she didn't read him properly, there was no place for her to hide. "Do you like me?" she repeated.

That was it! Her accent was gone. She was speaking perfect English. He wasn't sure how to answer. He DID like her... maybe. They had only talked a dozen times or so over viewscreens, though. Things were about to change... and he wasn't sure how to answer. In his head, he could hear T'Nia chastising him again for not trusting his human instincts. "Yes," he answered eventually. "what's with the accent?"

Her heart lifted a bit with that admission. Could she believe it? Did she have a choice? She could stop now. She could leave. It wasn't too late. However, there was too much going on... too much at stake. She needed SOMEONE she could trust. She studied his face carefully. He had fine chiseled features for a human. He wasn't large, as far as humans went, but he was obviously well built. His hair was dark blonde and short, combed back and parted at the side; something she wasn't used to seeing from romulan men, who don't part their hair at all. It was his eyes, his large, brown eyes. They looked sincere. She'd have to trust that. "I need you to like me, Stephen." she started slowly. She struggled for the right words.

This was starting to get weird. "Okay..." the word came out slowly as well. "Why?"

She looked away. This was even harder than she imagined it would be. "I'm about to tell you something... and... you... may not like it. I really need you to keep telling yourself that you like me." She looked up, a desperate look on her face. "Okay?"

"You're starting to worry me, T'osa." He wasn't kidding, either. Now he started thinking of terminal diseases, another plan to conquer the Federation... what if they had something to do with Bolerov's behavior?

She swallowed again. If she took this next step, it would be considered treason; punishable by death. This was more important... someone needed to know the truth besides her, and she couldn't trust anyone from Romulus with this. She had to get some kind of help, and Stephen was the only one. "I'm a spy with the Tal'Shiar." 


	15. Chapter 15

Stephen jumped up. "I knew it!" he shouted. As soon as he stood, he realized that was a bad idea. The twang in his side reminded him of the fresh surgery... and the new, sensitive skin. The pain shot up his side like a twanged cord. "Ow." he stated as he sat back down, instintively holding his side.

T'osa started to move towards Stephen, obviously concerned. "Are you alright?"

Stephen sunk in his chair. "Yeah," he gasped. The reality of her admission hit him. "Wait... you ARE a spy?"

She sat back down, relieved to have her identity exposed. "Yes, I am." The reality of HIS admission hit her. "Wait... you KNEW?"

Stephen shrugged. "Well, I suspected."

She stared at him incredulously. "How?"

He cocked his head. "Well, you laid the whole 'sweet, helpless, innocent romulan' act on kinda thick."

She looked genuinely hurt. "I don't get it. Our psych profile on you said you'd prefer the innocent, demure type." She shook her head, having completely forgotten her reason for being there. In the back of her mind, far from verbalizing, was her hope that the 'real' her was more his type. They had only had a dozen discussions over the past month, and they were only through a viewscreen. Despite her continual concentration to stay in character, she found there was something about him she liked.

"Actually, I prefer women who are more spirited," he replied innocently. Her heart skipped a beat. Stephen's mind began putting pieces together. "Wait... you mean you've been lying about who you are? That wasn't you?"

T'osa began nervously rubbing her fingers together. He heart came back down to reality with a thud. "Well... not... exactly."

So, the person he thought he knew he didn't know. On the one hand, that was despicable. On the other hand, that meant she might be more compatible with him than he originally thought. Good grief, he thought... what was he thinking? "Our whole relationship together was built on lies?"

Her face glowed as she smiled. "You actually think we have a relationship?" She WAS his type. She might be able to salvage something out of this after all.

Stephen relaxed a little. He was growing rather fond of her. They had talked for hours about their hometowns, their religion, their families. "Well, I wasn't picking out rings or anything..." Then it dawned on him that her entire background could have been a lie just to get information out of him. "Wait... stop that!" He grew irritated again.

"Stop what?" she asked defensively.

"Changing the subject," he answered with frustration. "For all I know, everything you've said to me is a lie. For what? What information were you trying to get out of me?" He raised his voice a bit.

"Initially... just information on your precious starship!" She raised her voice as well.

"Well, I hope I wasn't helpful!" He was practically yelling as he stood up.

"You weren't!" she countered and stood as well. The both folded their arms and stared away from each other. The truth started dawning on T'osa now. She pointed at him. "Hold it. If you knew I was a spy, why did you keep talking to me?"

Uh, oh, he thought. The look of righteous indignation left his face. It was replaced by discomfort. He really didn't want to admit he was looking for information, too. After all, part of him actually enjoyed talking to her. The other part of him thought she was a spy he could get information from. "Um..." he stammered.

Her eyes grew wide. "You were trying to get information out of ME, weren't you?"

"No!" he said defensively, then reconsidered. "Well, maybe... yes." He started looking around his quarters, looking for a way to get out of this conversation. He went with the first thing that came to mind. He grabbed his side. "Ow... I think my side is starting to hurt again."

Her eyes narrowed at him. Apparently, she wasn't buying it. His tone changed as he became more defensive. "Well, you started it." With that, he threw himself back into his chair. Okay... THAT actually hurt.

She threw herself back into the couch. "So, we're down to acting like children?" She was exhausted, but strangely, she was enjoying this.

"Well, I never lied to you. All those stories I told you... all the stuff about my life... that was all true." He was physically and mentally exhausted. He was tempted to tell her to leave. For some reason, he couldn't. He let out a deep breath instead.

Her voice calmed as well. After several moments, she finally spoke. "Everything I told you about me was true, too. I just... acted... a little so you'd find me more attractive."

He shook his head, his mind jumbled with thoughts and emotions. For the first time since he met T'Nia, he envied her clear-headedness. "How do I know that's true?"

She shook her head. Stephen had a point. "You don't," she admitted. "but why would I have admitted all this to you? I mean... I'm risking treason if my government finds out I told you this."

He sighed again. He couldn't think straight. "I don't know... maybe you've got some other angle to play." He looked at her, still confused. "Why DID you come here and confess all this?"

That question brought her back to reality in such a way it felt like a punch in the stomach. "Yes... that." She rubbed her forhead and felt the cranial ridges, something woefully absent from Stephen. Yet, she liked him. An admission she never thought she would make about a non-romulan, let alone a human. Still, if this little altercation didn't permanently destroy her chances with him, what she was about to admit probably would. 


	16. Chapter 16

"Look, I don't know what may happen between us because of this..." she swirled her finger around, "whatever it was, but I came here because I need a friend. I'm scared and confused and I need someone I can trust."

Kirk looked positively shocked. "You came here to admit to me you're a spy and have been lying to me because you need someone you can trust?"

The gravity of what she was trying to explain was starting to overwhelm her. "Stephen, please. I'm sorry. You were a mission. Then I got to know you. Now... I don't know what I know any more."

Stephen could tell she was starting to really be upset. But... it could just be another acting job. "Why don't you talk to one of your romulan friends? I mean, why risk telling me..."

"I can't!" she exclaimed, almost in tears. "I don't know who I can trust any more."

Lord, give me wisdom... and CALM, he thought to himself. He took a deep breath. He was becoming more and more convinced that she wasn't acting this time, even though a nagging voice continued to insist she was. "Okay, okay," he started, his voice much calmer. He motioned with his hands and sat forward in his chair. "Back up and try from the beginning."

Something about his demeanor soothed her. Mentally, she was desperately hoping that Stephen truly wanted to help. She took several deep breaths and looked into his eyes. They were no longer glaring and angry. Instead, they seemed warm, but worried. She took several deep breaths before continuing. "Alright. Right after your rather short battle with the three warbirds was over, I decided to look up their identity. They weren't listed on the active roster. I actually found them on a list of decommissioned ships."

Kirk nodded. "So, someone stole them from the shipyards?"

T'osa shook her head. "No. The records at the Derici Maintenance Center has them listed as 'scrapped'. That means at least seventy-five percent of the ship was dismantled and is no longer flyable."

Kirk thought for a moment. "So, you're thinking this wasn't just some paperwork mixup."

She shook her head again. "For one ship... maybe. For three ships at the same center, no. Someone went to a lot of trouble to retire three ships then make it look like they were destroyed." She raised her pointer finger. "Here's where it gets really creepy."

Oh, great, he thought.

"I tried to do some more poking around day before yesterday. The entries in the Derici computer were gone! They're also gone from the naval ship manifest, too. I contacted my commander to tell him what was going on. He already knew! He said that another group was investigating it and I need to leave it alone."

Not that he was an expert on romulan politics or military, but that sounded pretty typical to him. "And you don't think he was telling the truth?"

She buried her head in her hands. "I don't know." Her head was starting to hurt. She eventually looked up, obviously tired. "What I do know is this. I left a copy of the decommissioned ship manifest up on my computer on the Devoras before they erased it from the central computer. When I compared the new list, there were FOURTEEN ships missing from five separate yards." Her eyes looked desperate.

The gears started turning in Kirk's head. His eyes grew wide. "So... you're thinking the remans have gotten their hands on fourteen romulan warbirds and someone on Romulus was helping them?" Oh, precious Lord... that couldn't be right, he thought. Please tell me I'm wrong.

She slowly nodded her head. "That's the only conclusion I can come to. The remans have gotten a hold of at least three ships our systems say were dismantled. Whoever did it was able to keep the ships from being reported as stolen AND having my boss tell me not to look into it any more. Now... whoever did it was also able to erase those ships from our military systems completely. That means it's probably Tal'Shiar." With that, she pushed herself back into the couch and stared at the ceiling. She said it. She told him the truth... well, most of it, anyway. She was both relieved and terrified. It was all on Stephen now. There were so many things he could do with this information that could spell disaster for so many. But, she told him. It was too late to take it back.

Stephen slumped back into his chair, his mind swimming with the knowledge he had been given. Wow. Still, part of him wondered if this was all some kind of elaborate trap. Still, there had to be something to this story. The truth was the truth... the Warlord, disguised as the IRW Devoras, was attacked by three romulans warbirds. Sensors positively identified the crew as one hundred percent reman. Somehow, remans got their hands on romulan technology. "Holy crap," he exclaimed quietly.

T'osa leaned her head back forward and smiled weakly. "So... how was your day?" 


	17. Chapter 17

After several moments of silence, Stephen finally spoke up. He sat forward again. "So, what are you wanting me to do about this? I mean, how do you expect me to help?"

T'osa shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. "I don't think I wanted you to do anything about it. I just needed someone to talk to." For almost two days, she had wanted nothing more than to get to Stephen and tell him this. Now, she was forcing herself to admit why. "All the people I thought I could trust on Romulus I'm not so sure about any more. You were the only other person I thought I could turn to."

Stephen was still torn. He wanted to believe her, but something kept telling him not to trust her. If she was right, that meant part of the romulan government was helping the remans stage a coup for the rest of the government. The results could be disastrous not only for the Romulan Empire, but for the Federation. On the other hand, if this was all just some kind of grand deception meant to poison the leadership against the Federation, anything they did would play directly into their hands. According to T'Nia, the reporter already admitted such a ploy was in progress. Yet, here T'osa was, looking genuinely helpless and desperate... not even wanting him to help; not that he could. His eyes wandered to the bottle of brown liquid T'osa brought in with her. "Are you thirsty?" He pointed to the bottle. "Would you like some of that fishty you brought?"

She chuckled and pushed her hands forward defensively. "It's called vishri... and no. That stuff tastes terrible. I never understood how people could drink it."

Kirk blinked, surprised. "And you brought it here?"

T'osa shrugged. "Sure... what could be more harmless than an innocent woman bringing swill to drink?" She smiled. He returned the smile. "It would have kept you off your guard."

Kirk nodded. "I guess it would have."

She perked up a bit, remembering a human drink she had once, many years ago. "Do you have any of that..." she snapped her fingers, "oh, what's it called... chocolate... warm... hot chocolate. I think that's it."

Kirk gave her a wary eye. "Hot chocolate? Are you trying to act demure again?"

T'osa cocked her head. "No. I forgot what it was called. It had some white, floating things in it, too. They were really good."

"Marshmallows."

She snapped her fingers again. "Yes! Marshmallows. I'd love some of that, if you can make it."

Stephen stood up. "I'll see what I can do." He walked over to the replicator in the wall of his small dining area. "Computer; two hot chocolates with marshmallows." The small alcove shimmered and glowed. As the lights faded, two mugs of steaming, frothy liquid sat within. He carefully scooped them up and walked them back to the living area.

T'osa watched Stephen walk into the adjoining room, her chin resting on her fist. Everything about this afternoon had been so un-romulan. Her life had been nothing more than 'obey your orders', 'rely on yourself', 'do what you have to to succeed', and 'never trust humans'. That had been her life... until now. Now, she was questioning what it meant to be a true patriot. Is there ever a case when true loyalty meant betrayal? Were there really instances when true strength didn't come from you, but from others? As she watched Stephen standing at the replicator, it suddenly dawned on her... he had nice shoulders. She smiled to herself and imagined her chin resting on them with his arms around her.

"Penny for your thoughts," Stephen said lightly as he placed a mug in front of her.

She shook her head somewhat violently to clear the thought and blinked several times. "I'm sorry..." she stammered. "What's a penny?"

He shook his head and smiled. "Never mind." He pointed to the mug. "There's your hot chocolate. You looked deep in thought for a second." He sat back down.

Slightly embarassed, she took the cup eagerly. "I have a lot to think about." She sipped the hot beverage.

"Yeah," Kirk took a sip.

She had already come to the conclusion there was nothing she could do right now. She'd have to play along with whatever was going on, but keep wary on the goings on of the Tal'Shiar. She was, however, curious to know what Stephen thought. "Okay, so what if you were me?"

"You mean, what would I do?" He didn't want to admit it, but his confidence in his own leader had been faltering a bit, too. Scenarios played through his own mind on what he would do if faced with a conflict of leadership. He didn't have any answers, either.

She nodded.

He shook his head. All he could think to do was what he was doing. "I don't know there's much you CAN do. I mean, keep the stuff you've saved... but keep it safe. Get evidence as it comes to you. I'm sure stuff will present itself as time passes, considering your line of work." He smiled. She chuckled softly. 

Kirk shrugged. "Eventually, you know, the players are going to make their move. Then you'll know whose side everyone is one. You might get lucky... they may try to recruit you. Just act like a loyal Tal'Shiar agent."

She hadn't thought of that. She had planned to keep up her act, but just to stay out of trouble. She didn't think it could actually lead her to the people behind the coup. "I hadn't thought of that."

"Who knows? If you bring them down, you could wind up a hero." He concluded, smiling.

"Or dead," she countered.

"Well, yeah... there is that," he remarked.

She took another sip of the chocolate that sucked off all the marshmallows. "I guess I should let you sleep. It IS night time here, after all," her voice was mocking, remembering the correction she received from T'Nia. There was no doubt about it... that vulcan definately did not like her. If she and Stephen were going to have a relationship of any kind, that would have to be addressed.

Kirk's mind began to war with itself again. Part of him was relieved, the other part disappointed. "Yeah, I suppose. We can't have too many revelations in one night. We'd run out of things to talk about." The two stood up. As she turned for the door, he found himself speaking before he could think. "Hang on... I'll walk you to the transporter." 


	18. Chapter 18

It had been several days since Stephen had set foot onto the bridge. It hadn't changed, but he found he missed it dearly. Last night had been such a blur of emotions and knowledge, it was hard to sift through it. The one thing he had come away with, however, was the need to either prove or disprove her claims about the romulan warbirds. He had spent all morning pouring over his computer terminal. He was at a point where he needed help.

T'Nia was sitting in the captain's chair when he entered. M'ovara was sitting at tactical. Bristol was at navigation. Elaine was at communications and Tony was at his system station. They each greeted him warmly. "Good morning, Commander," T'Nia stated.

"Morning, Lieutenant Commander," Kirk replied, mimicking her official voice. "That chair fits you well.

"Yes, it does," she replied flatly. The smirk was barely discernable.

"Good to see you moving around, Steve," Tony commented happily. He was genuinely glad to see his friend recovering so quickly. It made him feel less guilty about the shot Kirk had taken for him.

"It feels good, Tone," Kirk replied with a smile. "I'm pleasantly surprised to see you haven't crashed anything lately."

Lietenant Moreau smiled evilly, "And you said I couldn't cover my tracks..." The bridge crew laughed.

"What brings you to the bridge, Commander," Lieutenant Davies said warmly. Regretfully, she hadn't had much opportunity to work with the commander, but she already could tell he wasn't like 'all the other guys'. For one thing, he never made a pass at her. For another thing, he always treated her with respect. She had truly missed his presence on the bridge.

He pointed to her. "Actually, you're the reason why I'm here. I need to ask you a few questions. It won't take long." He pulled out the retractable seat in the auxiliary engineering station next to hers.

She was mildly surprised. "Really?" Come to think of it, she felt proud. "What can I do for you?" Gradually, the bridge crew went back about their business.

Kirk lowered his voice a bit. "I need you to do me a favor... and don't broadcast it."

She was intrigued. She lowered her voice and moved closer to him. "What's up, Sir?"

He motioned with this thumb at the front viewscreen. "There's a shipyard on Romulus' moon. Is there any way you can check the transponder codes of the ships there?"

She cocked her head. "I can try, Sir. Why?"

Kirk shook his head. "I don't want to bother you with the details. Our captured romulan warbird was taken there. I just want to make sure it's still there."

Elaine shrugged. This was very mysterious. She wanted to get more information. Obviously, there was something more to this than simple curiosity. Perhaps she'd ask him later. "Okay... let me see what I can come up with." She turned back to her panel and began working her way through the controls. "Do you know which transponder code I'm looking for?"

Kirk nodded. "It's the code for the IRW Haakona." He turned to the monitoring screen, even though he didn't have the slightest clue what he was looking at.

"I guess we have that one in our computer..." she concluded. Because of the Dominion War, the Federation was given a rather long list of transponder codes for romulan ships, so they could be easily identified during joint missions. A few more taps on her panel brought up the code for the Haakona. She turned back to her monitoring display and shook her head. "There's some interference with that shipyard. Give me a few minutes... I think I can filter it out."

"Take you time," Stephen replied with a smile. "and thanks."

"Don't mention it, Sir," she replied with a smile. "I've been so bored here the past few days that I've been talking to one of the traffic controllers in the capital city just to improve my romulan."

Kirk chuckled and turned to face the front. "How you doing, Tyler?" he asked, his voice raised.

Tyler Bristol turned his head around to see Stephen. "I'm very excited to be flying around in a circle for five days, Sir." he remarked sarcastically. He rolled his eyes for added effect.

"Life on a starship can be really fun, can't it?" Kirk asked with a smirk. "Everyone hears about the starship combat that lasted for less than five minutes. They never hear about the weeks in between when nothing happens."

"They sure didn't list that on the enlistment brochure, Sir." He replied with a chuckle. Tyler couldn't wait for Commander Kirk to return to duty, either. Bolerov was very talented, but not one for small talk. Lieutenant Commander T'Nia was, well... vulcan. She wasn't much for talk of any kind.

"I've cleared the interference, Sir," Elaine said quietly. She was getting excited. If she got him the answer he wanted, maybe he'd share the mystery with her. Through the isolation matrix, she singled out thirteen separate codes.

Kirk turned back around. "What have you got, Lieutenant?"

"I've got a baker's dozen, Sir. I'm identifying them now." One by one, she singled out a wavelength pattern, then dismissed it. After several moments, she put his earpiece down and shook her head. "It's not there, Sir," she admitted.

Kirk raised an eyebrow. He had been half-expecting to hear that. It fit with what T'osa had said. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "Yeah. There are five D'deridex ships in there, but none of them are the Haakona. Maybe they moved it?"

Stephen shook his head. "Over the past three days, eight ships have left that facility... four shuttles, one scout ship, one cargo ship and two warbirds. Neither of them was the Haakona. The transponders were wrong and they were in WAY too good a shape, considering what we did to it. That ship will be laid up for weeks."

Now Elaine was particularly intrigued. In addition to knowing a half dozen languages, she had also nearly memorized every Sherlock Holmes novel ever written. 'Something strange is afoot', she said to herself. "Well, it couldn't just disappear, Sir."

Kirk raised an eyebrow. "No, it couldn't, Lieutenant. But they could have changed the transponder code."

"Why would they do that?"

"THAT is a good question. Could you please pipe that list of warbirds in the moonbase to the terminal in my quarters?"

"Sure, Sir," she said with a sly look. "under one condition."

Kirk was surprised at her spirit. This was a side of her he had never seen before. "Oh? What?"

"You let me know what's going on," she said as she smiled. "I'm really good at mysteries. I can help."

He thought for a moment. The more he thought, the more he figured he would need her skills. "Okay," he relented. "As soon as I put a few more pieces together, I'll fill you in."

"Deal," she said proudly. With two button presses, she turned back to her commander. "The names are waiting for you, Sir."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," he replied with a simliar smile. She had spunk. As he stood to leave, he couldn't help but think she just might fit in well after all. He also wondered if she and Tony had patched things up yet. 


	19. Chapter 19

Tony watched his friend leave through the turbolift doors. He had been quite happy to see his friend up and about... until he planted himself down next to Elaine. Then, the two started whispering to each other and smiling. What was going on? Somehow, that had put him on edge. He couldn't make out much... something about scans of the romulan moon, some names being sent to his terminal, and some kind of 'deal'.

It was almost instinctual. He tapped several keys on his console and brought up the transfer history of the various bridge terminals. It took mere seconds after that to determine exactly what Elaine had sent to Steve. It looked like a list of romulan ship names. That made him even more curious. What were those two planning? What were they looking at? As Elaine turned back around, he quickly blanked the screen. She shot him a prideful grin, then turned back to her console.

Something was going on between those two. What could Steve trust HER with, but not him? He tried to be nonchalant as he turned towards her. "So," he began playfully, "how's the commander?"

Without turning her head, she replied, "He's YOUR friend. Don't you know?"

"I was just asking a question." He snipped, turning back to his console. Was something going on between them? Steve KNEW that he was interested in her. Or... was he? They had only talked as friends before. That's all he had ever said to her. They hadn't talked since that big blow up on the bridge awhile back. Maybe Steve saw the opportunity to move in and took it. It would be his own fault if Steve made a play for her.

"Wait..." he thought. "This is Steve we're talking about." He shook his head. "First of all, he's just not that smooth around women. Second... he's just not like that." What was he thinking? He shook his head again. Why was he so jealous? That was it! He was jealous. Apparently, there was more to his feelings for her than just friendship. He was going to have to do something about it. His pride and ego would have to take a back seat, and he'd have to take Steve's advice... he'd have to actually sit down and talk to her. He spent several seconds going over what to say, how to say it, and how stupid he would sound in his head. Tony was about to give up when he heard Steve's voice tell him to 'grow up.' He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had been rejected by girls before, but they weren't co-workers. Rejection could make things even more awkward than they already were. 

He gently slapped his hands on the console and turned back around to Elaine, who, surprised by the noise, turned to face him. "Elaine... look. I don't want to pick fights with you and I don't want to go on feeling weird about having to talk to you."

Elaine resisted the urge to say something snide in return, though several statements came to mind. She had been wrestling with the concept of Tony as a crewmate ever since their fallout just over a week ago. The truth was... she wanted to talk to him, too. The insults were, however, a warm reminder of her younger days though, when life was just fun and games. She was going to have to take Commander Kirk's advice eventually, however. Having temporarily conquered her juevenile tendencies, she nodded her head. "I guess it doesn't make for a good working environment, does it?"

She could have responded several different ways. He half-expected her to smart off. Her response actually made him smile. "I don't suppose there's any way you and I could talk tonight... after we're off shift? We could just meet in the officers' mess." He shrugged. "Whaddaya say?"

Mentally, she had been willing to admit to some of the over-reacting that caused their split for some time. There was a difference, however, between admitting it to one's self, and admitting it to someone ELSE. If they were going to come clean about bad behavior, she certainly didn't want to do it in public. "I have a better idea. Why don't you come by my quarters tonight, say eightteen hundred. My mom taught me this great coq au vin recipe years ago. I put it into the replicator after our last visit to Earth." She waved her finger. "No funny business, though. We're just going to talk."

What the heck was she expecting? He was about to take her head off for suggesting he wanted to do anything but talk, but as the words were about to leave his mouth, he choked on his tongue. That hurt. Instead, he decided to just nod. "Okay... we only talk." He couldn't help but add, "For the record, that's all I wanted to do."

Sure it was, she thought. Well... maybe it was. It was his idea to meet in a public place, after all. As her mind scanned her memories of their talks, he never made any questionable advances towards her. Elaine had come to the initial conclusion that perhaps she had overreacted about that, too. "Okay," she relented with a smile, "I shouldn't have made that assumption." Her voice became more businesslike. "My place, eightteen hundred hours."

Tony smiled. She apologied... that was a start. Now, hopefully tonight, he could put his pride aside and apologize, too. "Gotcha. I'll be there." He said with a smile. A nagging thought occured to him. "What IS coke a been?"

She chuckled. "Coq au vin. It's chicken."

"Ah," he replied, relaxing. He liked chicken. 


	20. Chapter 20

Stephen returned to his darkened quarters to hear a pair of beeping sounds. One was coming from his desktop console, informing him information had arrived. He was far more interested in the other beeping sound, however. It was coming from his wall display telling him he had received a video message. Thinking it might be from his family, he dashed over panel and pressed a few buttons. Sure enough, it was from his mother. Impatiently, he pressed play. It was titled 'Merry Christmas' and delivered, via subspace.

An image of his mother's face filled the panel. Her face was wrinkled and round. Her hair was full gray and pulled back into a bun. She was wearing her favorite holiday red and green apron. Her brown eyes twinkled. Christmas was her favorite time of the year. She was stooped over the display panel on her end. She smiled brightly. "Hello, honey." His heart melted as he stood motionless in front of the display. In the background, he could see the entire family was present. They were busy preparing the long dining room table. Occasionally, as one of his cousins passed behind Mom, they would make faces at the panel. His cousin Jake, tall and lean, was the nuttiest one of them all. He would go into gyrations with his arms and legs with his tongue touching his nose. His mother turned around to scold Jake. "I saw you, young man!" She waved a wrinkled finger at him. He stopped, almost looking guilty, with a smile. "Git... go on, now. Help your brother set the table."

"Yes, Aunt Beth," he said, half moping. Even though Jake was twenty-five, he could act twelve in a heartbeat. He gave one more face, then took off for the kitchen.

His mom turned back to the display. "Your doctor told me all about your injury. I was beside myself for days. Just ask your father." She turned her head and reached out for something off screen. "Come here and say hello to your son, Jim."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Beth," his father's voice scolded. His dad poked his head into viewing range. He didn't look like he was sixty-three. His hair was still mostly strawberry blonde, his face round like the rest of him. Obviously, Mom kept him well fed. "Your mother was a nervous wreck." He said flatly. "Can I go now? These plates are heavy."

"Fine," she said disgustedly. She turned back to the screen. "Anyway, when Doctor Rass told me you had come through and would be alright, I nearly went through the roof." She waved her finger at the screen. "Don't you go getting shot again." She was half-joking. "I like that doctor of yours. He sounds real intelligent." 

Stephen rolled his eyes. "Just ask him... he'll tell you," Kirk replied to himself.

"If they shot his mouth off, I'll thank 'em!" He heard the voice of his sister off-screen. She poked her head in front of the screen and waved with a big smile.

"Kathrine Lynn!" His mom yelled.

"Gotta go!" Kathy smiled as her face darted back off the screen. Stephen couldn't help but laugh.

His mom shook her head. "Anyway, we miss you something fierce now." Her expression became solemn. "It's just not the same without you here." She shook her head and started smiling again. "Well, we're keeping your presents for you. When you get back you can open them." She started looking around her. "Come on, everyone... wish Steve a merry Christmas." She motioned with her hands. "Gather 'round!" She then turned her attention to the screen in front of her as his family began gathering behind her. "How do I zoom this thing out? Ever since you people put this new display in, I can't find a blessed control on it." As she started fiddling with controls, the screen suddenly went black. "Oops!" her voice exclaimed.

"Hang on, Mom..." Stephen recognized his David, his brother-in-law's voice. The video came back on to reveal David's face. "Hi, Steve." He rolled his eyes. "Mom, all you need to do is press the center button. Don't even touch the ones on the side."

"Oh, I see," she exclaimed. Stephen could tell by her expression she still didn't get it. Slowly, the image on his screen grew to encompass the entire living room. Even the ranch hands and their families were there. Everyone stood next to each other. "Okay... smaller people in the front, taller in the back." Jake sat down in front and sucked his thumb. Mom shot him a glance. "Jake, Jr. get your butt in the back!" As everyone laughed, he hopped up and slithered to the back row. Off to the right was yet another huge, overly decorated Christmas tree. "Everyone in place?" She asked. "Okay on three... one, two three!"

"Merry Christmas!" Everyone yelled.

Mom walked back up to the screen. "I love you, son. Come home soon." She waved. Her hand moved off to the side of the screen. It went black. He could still hear the sounds of people talking. "I didn't turn it off, did I?" her voice asked.

"No, Mom... you didn't." David's voice replied. "The button's over here." His wall display went to blue.

Stephen smiled as a single tear streamed down his face. 


	21. Chapter 21

T'osa's face looked sincerely happy as it filled Stephen's viewing screen. "Good afternoon, Stephen. This is a pleasant surprise."

Stephen smiled weakly, his mind still fresh from his family's recording. "Hi, T'osa. Sorry to call you at work."

"You're fine," she replied with a gesture of her hand. "What can I do for you?"

He was really hoping she'd put them on a secured channel so they could speak freely. "Well..." he stammered, "I've got some... information on that... research... thing... we were talking about."

A moment of confusion crossed her face followed by a sparkle of recognition as she figured out what he was talking about. She bit back a laugh. "Right," she said with a smile, "hang on." She removed herself from the screen's field of vision and returned to her seat a few moments later. After pressing a few buttons of something just below her screen, she chuckled. "Okay, we're secure now. I hope you're faster on your feet than you are with your mouth." T'osa laughed more.

Kirk rolled his eyes. If one more person criticized his lying abilities, he was going to go off. "Whatever," he grunted. 

"I'm sorry," she offered half-heartedly. "I should be grateful you're trying to help."

"That's better," he said with a half smile. Although he still didn't trust her, it was good to see her again. "I've got some info on the ship we shot up during the fight."

"Oh?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah. It disappeared." He added a smirk.

She cocked her head. "What do you mean 'disappeared'?"

"Well, we pulled its transponder code during the fight. When we compared it to the ships in the moon base, it didn't match any of the ships there... and our logs don't show it ever leaving."

She tried to think of possible answers. "Well, they could have just powered down the ship... but it still broadcasts with the batteries. It could have left under cloak..."

Kirk continued her thought, "but it wasn't in any condition to go anywhere, let alone with a cloaking device."

She nodded. "Which means... if it IS still there..."

"someone changed the transponder code to hide its presence." Kirk concluded with a knowing smile.

T'osa struggled to put her thoughts together. "I don't suppose you have the names of the ships that are suppsedly in the station..."

Stephen's smile grew. "As long as you've got a secure connection, I do."

She smirked. "I wouldn't be talking to you like this if I didn't."

Stephen pressed a few buttons on his computer panel. "There you go."

She nodded. "I have them. Let me do a little digging. I can't do anything through official channels because I'm not supposed to be looking into this stuff." She continued nodding. "I'll stop by tonight when I'm done here."

"Well, it's already evening here, so don't make it too late."

T'osa rolled her eyes. "I keep forgetting. How do you people get anything done if you only have twenty-four hours in a day?"

Stephen's face changed to mock arrogance. "Obviously, we're doing quite well. We've got a ship that can kick your best all over the quadrant." T'osa merely rolled her eyes. "You won't get in trouble coming here so soon, will you?"

She shook her head. "Remember, I'm supposed to be seducing you. I've been encouraged to see you as often as possible. Convenient, huh?"

The reality that he was still dealing with an accomplished spy struck him. For all he knew, she was still performing her mission by being painfully obvious to him. That WOULD, actually, be the perfect plan. "How could I forget..." he said off-handedly.

By the changed expression on his face, T'osa realized she had picked the wrong thing to say. Somehow, she was going to have to tell him what the rest of her mission was... but not now. If she told him, he'd never agree to help her. She was going to need his help to pull this off. Somehow, though, she was going to have to complete her official mission while accomplishing her personal mission... and not get Stephen caught in the middle. "We'll talk tonight." she said simply.

"Okay," he replied. The screen went blank. Stephen walked into his living area, collapsed into his chair and leaned his head back. "WHAT have I gotten myself into?" 


	22. Chapter 22

"Kolvash... what a pleasant surprise!" Bolerov shook the romulan commander's hand tightly. "Come in." He gestured for the commander to come into his quarters. The large, old-style leather furniture was still there. Kolvash figured it was probably older than Andrei was. 

Kolvash walked in and held up a brown sack. Once the sliding door closed behind him, he opened the sack and withdrew a bottle of pale green liquid. "Now we can have a REAL drink," he said with a smile.

Bolerov smiled. He had heard of romulan ale, but never seen it. He suspected that was what Kolvash was holding. "I'll get some glasses." Pride urged Andrei to drink often and heavily to prove he could keep pace with a middle aged romulan. Age and wisdom implied that would be a bad idea. "Have a seat." he offered as he retrieved some glasses from the kitchenette.

Kolvash sat down with a grunt. "I hope I didn't come at a bad time."

Bolerov sat down in the chair next to him and extended the glasses. "Not at all. I just went off-shift an hour ago. I have eleven more hours to recover from whatever this does to me." The two smiled as Kolvash poured.

Andrei held up his glass. "What shall we drink to?"

Kolvash raised his glass to Bolerov's. "Let us drink to the company of kindred spirits."

"I'll drink to that," with that, the two took a long drink. For a moment, the syrupy liquid seemed to have no taste whatsoever. Then, as it passed the top of his throat, he tasted a vague flavor of bananas. Then... it hit him... a burn like the worst vodka. It took his breath away. His mouth contorted. Thankfully, it had a similar effect on Kolvash. "That's interesting," Bolerov whispered hoarsely.

"A drink for a warrior, eh?" Kolvash whispered back. He quickly refilled the glasses.

Obviously, Bolerov thought, whatever Kolvash's mission was in coming here, part of it involved getting him drunk. He'd have to go easy on the ale, despite his desire to drink Kolvash under the table... or pass out trying. His second sip of the green syrup was much smaller than the first. Gradually, he sat back in his chair. It was starting to have an effect already. "So..." he started slowly, "what brings you to my ship again?"

Kolvash scoffed as he sat down. "I needed to get away. I've been stuck in bureaucracy for the past two days. I'm starting to see why there was such a large scale assassination in the Senate. Someone must have sat through one of those meetings."

Bolerov laughed. "Why did you get stuck in that?"

The romulan commander shook his head and took another drink. "Inquiry after inquiry about our little 'incident'. They wanted all kinds of details on the Federation masking technology, your ship's weapons capabilities," he took another drink, "why I followed your orders, why I allowed your crew to board a romulan ship... I think someone once asked me why I wash my hair the way I do."

"I'm sorry we caused you so much trouble," Bolerov countered lightly. He took a drink as well. It didn't burn quite as much as before. That was probably a bad sign. "Next time, we can just let them shoot you."

Kolvash laughed. "It may come to that in the future. I told them I didn't mind submitting to a superior fighting force. After all, we expect our enemies to do that for us." He took another drink. "That didn't go over well. Actually..." he paused for a few moments, "I'd say half of them praised me for letting the Federation take the lead, the other half cursed me."

"Sounds like your new government has some issues to clear up." He commented and took another drink. Actually, this stuff wasn't that bad. That was probably another bad sign.

"Not all change is good change," Kolvash added. His voice was beginning to slur... perhaps it was just Bolerov's hearing.

"No..." Bolerov reflected on his own government's change in philosophy. He remembered how much of a fight it had been to get the Dreadnaught II project off the ground. The project began in earnest after the Borg incursion, but was halted pending more reviews. It wasn't until the Dominion War came to Earth that it was restarted. Since then, even the Federation President had been hesitant to unveil the project. He took another drink. "What can you do?" He asked rhetorically.

Kolvash thought for several moments. This was the REAL reason why he came aboard. True, the ale wasn't affecting him as much as he was letting on, but he could tell it was starting. Hopefully, Bolerov was loose enough now to listen to the proposal. "What if there WAS something we could do?"

Bolerov was starting to feel tipsy and dared not drink any more. This discussion must be part of the reason why he came. He needed to stay sober enough to listen and remember. It was time for him to start acting more intoxicated than he was. Bolerov looked confused. "What do you mean?" He asked, his speach intentionally slurring a bit.

"I mean... what if we could get back to the way things were?" He asked, taking another drink. "You know... no more wimpy governments afraid to make an aggressive move. You and me captaining against one another... our two powers competing for dominance once more."

Bolerov put his glass to his lips and pretended to drink. "How can we do that?" This conversation wasa beginning to interest him... in more ways than one.

"Never mind the details. I just need to know if you're interested." His eyes struggled to focus on Bolerov, but he looked intense.

Andrei was having a difficult time comprehending exactly what Kolvash meant. The idea of the Empire and the Federation going back to what he was comfortable with, though, was enticing. "Yeah... I'm interested."

"Good!" Kolvash exclaimed. He stood up uneasily, then slowed his pace. "Keep this meeting to yourself. I'll talk to you soon." He took one more drink, put his glass down, and headed for the door.

"Wait," Bolerov had a dozen questions to ask him, but it was hard to focus long enough to think of them. "What about the ale?" was all he could think to ask.

"Keep it." Kolvash answered with a wink. "It's a present... but... hide it. Remember, romulan ale is illegal in the Federation." Kolvash said with a smile.

"Thanks for the present," Bolerov answered, still confused. "and the information."

"Remember," Kolvash put his finger somewhere near his mouth. "Shhhh." The door slid open silently. "We'll talk later." With that, he staggered out the door.

Andrei watched him leave, his head still swimming with half-completed thoughts. He would need to sleep this ale off before trying to think coherently. He thought briefly about heading off to bed, but determined the chair was awfully comfortable. 


	23. Chapter 23

The chime on Stephen's door played its happy four-note tune. "Come on in," he said at the door. He had been sitting in his chair watching the EN1 channel on his view screen for the past hour and was quite bored listening to current Earth news. Still, it sufficed to take his mind off of the person standing on the other side of the door. Stephen spent much of his brain power trying to figure out what to do with T'osa, the self-admitted Tal'Shiar agent. He came to the conclusion he had already done too much for her and probably played right into her plans. After much soul-searching, he decided to continue with the meetings to figure out exactly what she wanted from him. Deep down, he was hoping she was being sincere.

His door slid open with a quiet hiss and T'osa stepped in holding what looked like a brown paper bag. She walked in with a guarded smile. "Good evening, Stephen," she said as the door slid closed behind her. "Are you hungry?"

Stephen shook his head. "Sorry. I ate a little while ago."

She sat down on the couch beside him and started pulling wrapped items from the bag. "I hope you don't mind if I eat. I was starving when I left work, so I stopped by this little restaurant on the way to the transporter." She opened one of the larger items to reveal sticks with several rolled strips of a crispy, khaki-colored meat pierced through. "I got extra, in case you were hungry." It had a very unique smell... similar to meatloaf, peanut butter, and honey all at once. With a wave of her hand, she announced, "This is oil-fried cavefish." She pulled out a couple of small, wrapped cups with what appeared to be thick sauces in each. "Complete with diping sauces." she added. She withdrew what looked very much like a Chinese take-out container and opened it. It was full of small, green-colored corn flakes. "These are pecha flakes." She unwrapped what looked like a small, blue eel. "We also have fresh alwe. You might want to steer clear of this one, it's kind of an acquired taste." Finally, she uncovered what looked like an elongated paper plate covered in small, decorated, yellow pastries. "Last, but not least, ossoul twists."

Stephen looked curiously at the meal in front of T'osa. The alwe looked as horrible as some of the Klingon food he had to stomach a few years ago, but everything else looked at least palletable. "How do you eat the flakes?"

She removed a thin, wooden peg, just longer than her hand, from the bag. "With this," she answered. She opened a tall, thin container and dipped the peg inside. It was coated with a thick, orange colored syrup. "You dip the stick in the s'ashova sap, then dip it in the flakes," she put the sap-coated stick in the box of flakes. When she removed it, it was covered with green flakes. "and eat." She inserted the entire stick her mouth. "If you like, I can show you how to use the shearing tool for the alwe." She smiled wryly.

Kirk smirked. "Thanks... I think I'll hold off on that." With that, he took wooden stick T'osa offered him and tried the pecha flakes. They reminded him of barbeque flavored corn chips. The dipping syrup tasted like sour honey. The cavefish was, well, crispy. By itself, it didn't have much taste at all. Thank goodness for the dipping sauces. Although the white sauce nearly burned his tongue through with spices, the pale yellow sauce was rather sweet. Although he enjoyed sharing the meal with T'osa, part of him was expecting a sedative or truth serum to begin taking affect.

She was thrilled that he would try some of her food. T'osa had been raised to believe the Federation imposed their beliefs, food, and culture on any planet or nation that fell under their jurisdiction. It was comforting to know she was wrong about that, too. Still, she couldn't help but get a sense he was still holding something back from her. It was almost like sitting next to another romulan, which she was trying to avoid. She figured she'd need to approach the subject carefully. "Thank you for the information you gave me earlier. I was able to talk to someone in strategic planning this afternoon. The Aardulae was sent into the Ovuiuse system three months ago. I'm guessing that's the missing ship, since the Ovuiuse system is almost four months into romulan space."

Kirk nodded and took a drink of the cola he made for himself. "Yep... I'd say that's probably your ship." For some reason, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. "Any ideas on what to do next?"

She nodded slowly. T'osa had been trying to figure out a way to pull off both her mission and her division's mission at the same time. She figured she just couldn't tell him the whole story... yet. If she did, he'd never go through with it. "Well," she started, staring at the floor, "I figure we're going to have to get aboard that ship." She looked up and smiled weakly.

"Why would you need to... wait." The fact she said 'we' just struck him. "What do you mean 'we're going to?'" That's why he was getting nervous. "You're crazy if you think I'm setting one foot on that thing."

She expected this would be a hard sell. "I can't board it by myself," she offered defensively. "I need help."

Kirk shook his head emphatically. "No way." She was trying to lead him into some kind of trap. He could sense it. Having him get caught aboard a captured romulan ship would lead to a major intergalactic incident.

"Stephen, the transponder system is closed. I can't access it remotely. In order for me to see who changed the code, I have to be on the ship."

"No," He said flatly. It was one thing to be the victim of a trap. It was quite another thing to waltz into one.

She looked desperate. In order for her plan to work, she needed him on the ship. "Stephen, I need someone to watch my back while I access the system. You could say you were visiting me for the night. No one would know."

"I've already exceeded the number of times I'm allowed to be shot on a romulan ship in a lifetime." He said disparagingly. He folded his hands for emphasis. If she drugged the food to make him more complacent; it didn't work. "Besides, I really don't want to spend the rest of my tour of duty in the brig for insubbordination."

She was exasperated. Perhaps she didn't quite have the hold on him she thought she did. Perhaps he really wasn't that interested in her to begin with. Perhaps she wasn't being very convincing intentionally. She shook her head. This was too important for too many reasons. "Look... if you get caught you may get court martialed. If I get caught, I'll be executed for treason." On that, she wasn't kidding. "I don't want to do this, either. But... if there's a group on Romulus actively trying to prevent the Empire and the Federation from uniting, we need to know who it is, right?"

Good grief... that actually made sense. He sat there, silent, mentally battling over what she had said. He needed to tell Captain Bolerov of all this. Yet, immediately after that thought came a phrase he learned while he was in the Marine's special operations unit... "plausible deniability". If he DID get caught, he had to ensure no one else would get dragged into it as well. He couldn't trust, her... but he wanted to believe her. She lied to him, but he still liked her. Everything in him said it was a trap, but she had a point. Something about all this wasn't right... and answers weren't going to simply jump out at them. In the end, he had to go with his gut. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes painfully. 

He couldn't believe he was going to say it... "Okay... what's your plan?" 


	24. Chapter 24

The shimmering white sparkles of the transporter beam faded away. Stephen and T'osa found themselves standing in front of her home, it looked similar to his own apartment in Houston. The sun had just set behind the mountains to the east, casting an erie purple hue to the landscape. Where she lived was crowded with buildings, but looked almost spartan as he looked down the street towards the center of the city. The street itself was wide and sandy, but with relatively few vehicles. There were but a few people walking the sidewalks. At regular intervals, floating globes of bluish white light began glowing dimly, illuminating the sidewalks and streets. An occasional humid wind would blow through the area temporarily moving the globes out of place, but would immediately re-orient themselves.

T'osa considered him thoughtfully. "You've never been to Romulus before, have you?"

Kirk shook his head only half hearing her. He wanted to take in all the sights he could. From a number of half opened windows and doors he could make out the sounds of romulan discussions too far away for his translator to interpret. In a tree across the street, he could discern the flapping of some small, winged lizard. It made a high-pitched owl sound, but repeated it very quickly for several seconds before letting its tone drop off at the end. The tree it was in looked odd to him as well. It was about five meters tall, but the trunk looked more like a thick vine. The only branches were a single layer at the very top spread like an umbrella of dark green leaves. As he looked around, he noticed the landscape was full of these trees. The grass, if you could call it grass, had a light blue hue to it and was almost a half meter tall. Each blade appeared to have small prickles all over it, but as he touched them, they were soft. The smell had a hint of cinnamon.

His eyes went from the nature to the buildings. He had always found it strangely ironic that planets initially named by humans for Roman gods would have native names that sounded similar; Romanad and Resanea. Of even more striking irony was how similar the Romulan way of life paralleled ancient Rome... right down to the large pillared archways of their architecture. To Stephen, of course, this wasn't merely coincidence; it was proof that God's hand stretched farther than anyone could imagine. Although the technologies surrounding the streetlights, the freestanding messaging systems, the building security systems, and the vehicles lining the street were modern, the bricked, arched design of the buildings looked as though they leaped right out of a Julius Caesar documentary. The similarities were shocking. He wished he could stay for awhile and take it all in.

T'osa watched his eyes as they hungrily scanned everything. While she lamented the possibility of a coup to seize control of her home, she was definately proud of her people. The idea that someday she would be forced to leave or accept a new way of life mentally pained her to the point of momentarily closing her eyes. She was convinced. She WAS a patriot. The people she was trying to uncover were the traitors, no matter what rank they carried. Her oath was to serve the Empire, not a group a dissadents with power. Not everyone would agree with that, she admitted to herself. It was a terrible notion to think that some of her own race had more in common with the money grabbing Ferengi than with her. One day, when everything was back to normal, she'd give Stephen a legitimate tour of the capital city. Unfortunately, now was not the time. T'osa needed to start putting pieces together. 

She gently tugged his elbow. "Come on, let's go in." Absently, he nodded his head. She led him up the wide stairs to her home and pressed her hand against a lighted panel next to the door.

"T'anranea verlosh a perit'a, T'osa," a computer voice said to her. The door opened. Inside, she headed toward an ornate sprial staircase led to the second floor.

"Looks like a nice place," Stephen remarked. The four doors on the first floor appeared to be some kind heavy wood. He followed her up the stairs.

"It is," she smiled, "but thank the gods for transporters, or I wouldn't have any furniture. I tried carrying some small things up these stairs when I first moved in, and almost killed myself." At the top of the stairs, the nearest door on the right swung open. They stepped into a darkened room. "Lights." she said aloud.

Soft yellow lights from two floor lamps illuminated her small living room. It was a square room, with two small chairs and a sofa ringing a small, round table. A large painting of a desert landscape covered the southern wall, next to the front door. A large computer terminal dominated the eastern wall. As he examined the arched entryways that led to a small bedroom and a kitchen, she walked to the computer terminal. "Computer," she started. The screen instantly burst to light with the symbol of the Romulan Empire; the bird of prey holding Romulus in one talon and Remus in the other. "Replay number four saved message with Stephen Kirk." 

Within seconds, he heard his voice and face say, "Hi, T'osa. What brings you to my video screen?"

"I'll be right back," she said, then disappeared into her bedroom.

"You recorded our conversations?" He asked, somewhat alarmed. His mind began replaying as much of their previous conversations as possible, trying to think of anything he might have said that was, in any way, unwise.

"I always record my conversations," she replied with a raised voice. From within her bedroom, Stephen could hear her rifling through various objects.

"Even personal ones?" he asked, raising his voice over the video screen and rummaging sounds.

The rifling sound ceased. She re-appeared with a small, black, cylindrical device. "Especially the personal ones," she answered with a smile. "Smile," she said. She pressed a button on the side of the device.

Still confused and taken aback at the notion his conversations were in a Romulan computer, he responded the only way he could think. "Huh?"

She set the device on the round table and pressed another button. "It's a biorhythmic emulator. To anyone scanning my home, it'll look like we're here." She pointed to the video screen. "To anyone listening to my home, it'll look like we're here... for the next three hours, anyway." She picked up a small, black knapsack from the floor by one of the chairs, then motioned for him to follow. "Come on. We'll go out through the balcony." With that, she headed towards the kitchen.

She certainly had this planned out, he thought. That worried him. If she did have this all planned out, why did she need HIM? He shook his head. It was a little too late for him to back out now. He held up his finger. "Hang on," he said. Reaching down, he opened the bag he brought with him. "I need to change into something more... appropriate." With that, he withdrew an all black outfit, a vest, boots, gloves, and a very ominous-looking black mask. "It'll only take a minute or two. Can I use your bedroom to change?"

She nodded. He certainly came prepared. That was an impressive uniform he had brought. It certainly wasn't standard Starfleet issue. T'osa recognized the vest from intelligence reports she occasionally received. It was some kind of high-tech Marine gear, but she couldn't remember exactly what it did. Apparently, there was more to Stephen than met the eye. What emerged from the bedroom unnerved her. He was dressed in all black, from the full headmask that completely covered his face to his boots. The bodysuit was form fitting, revealing unusually well-defined biceps. The lack of eyes in the mask was especially disquietting.

"Okay, I'm ready," an especially intimidating, computerized voice said. Presumably, it was Stephen, but it sounded completely synthesized.

"Nice outfit," she remarked uncomfortably. SHE didn't have nifty gear like that.

"Just a little something I picked up during my tour in the Marines," Stephen replied using the synthetic voice of his suit. She would have to get used to that as well as a few more 'benefits' this suit had to offer. He spent three years in the Special Operations unit of the Starfleet Marines before being accepted to the Academy. This exosuit was part of the perks. He had already configured it to emit the bio-readings of a romulan. "Shall we go?"

"Yeah," she was still looking over the suit and vest. She wondered what kinds of toys that thing carried. T'osa had a feeling she'd find out. "We can climb out the balcony in the kitchen. It'll be a twenty to twenty-five minute walk to the old city from here."

"And you're sure that old transporter will work if it's powered up?" He still had some lingering questions, but she seemed to have the plan worked out. Just in case, he brought a few of his 'suppliments' in his backpack.

She nodded. "One of the two should work. The power cell I brought will only work twice, though. The two stepped out onto her balcony, slowly climbed down once they knew the back road was clear, then began their shadow-lined walk towards the old capital city, a large cluster of mostly bombed out buildings and torn up roads on the west side. 


	25. Chapter 25

After almost a half hour of sneaking in the shadows, they came into the ruins of the old capital city. The old city had been cordoned off with a six meter high stone wall with spiked wire across the top. Apparently, as time had passed, the wall had come under disrepair as had the wire at the top. There were several places in the gray rock where the wall had collapsed entirely as well as numerous smaller holes. The old city was, however, completely devoid of power and, therefore, eerily dark. Rubble and debris littered the ground.

"We'll have to use a light once we get to the other side," T'osa said.

"You don't have any night vision goggles or something?" Kirk's robotic voice asked.

T'osa looked cynical. "People start asking questions when you borrow things like that, Stephen." 

Stephen shook his head. "That's a good way for us to get discovered. You can just follow me until we're safely inside the city." With that, he raised a stiff-rounded cover atop his right forearm. It revealed a dimly illuminated keyboard. He began tapping buttons with his left hand, then closed the panel. "I have night vision with this suit."

"How can you see anything?" She asked quizzically. There were no eyeholes of any kind.

"Photo receptors on the inside of the mask." He replied flatly. "Let's go." He took her hand and led her through an opening in the delapidated wall.

She decided to be a little playful. This was getting too serious for her. "That mask doesn't have x-ray vision, does it?" She asked with a smile.

Despite the fact she couldn't see his face at all, she knew he was smiling. "No comment," he replied.

The pale green moon of Romulus cast a sickly green glow to everything in the bombed out remains. The walking was slow. "What happened here?" Stephen asked.

Still holding his gloved hand, she carefully made her way through the rubble. "Oh, it was what... a little more than a hundred years ago, I guess. We had a little disagreement with a species called the G'rikh. Pictures of them reminded me of large, thin rodents without hair. They launched a surprise attack to get our attention. This is what happened."

"I've never heard of the G'rikh," Kirk remarked.

"You won't, either," countered T'osa. "We annihilated them. There are, maybe, a couple dozen left. Almost all of them are dead along with their planet." She sounded so cold as she described the genocide of an entire race.

"Wow," Stephen could only say. He was somewhat shocked at how callously she could describe that event. Romulan upbringing was certainly different from his own.

"Crossing the Empire is usually a bad idea," she remarked. Squinting in the darkness, she pointed forward and to the right. "See that large, rounded building over there?"

The visual receptors in his suit focused and zoomed in on the building. At one time, it must have been beautiful. It had a large, domed roof, now mostly collapsed. The front doors, broken and pushed aside, were of stone construction with metal hinges and engraved inlay. The southern part of the structure had completely collapsed in on itself. The arch-topped windows were blown out, causing a slight howling sound as the warm, gentle wind blew through the remains. Once they stepped into the old government building, T'osa turned on her light. There was a rancid smell of mold, dust, and animal feces throughout the building. With a few button clicks, the mask began filtering the air.

T'osa covered her mouth. "I have GOT to get one of those things." Through the remains of the main door, they could see the devastated entry room, a crumbled mass of dust and rubble with a few broken chairs strewn about. They pushed past the debris as T'osa shined the light on the signs near the doors exiting the entry room. She pointed to an open door to the right. "That's it... the transporter room." Cautiously, the two made their way to the room.

Inside, the transporter controls were covered in dust. The transporter pad was coated in dust and broken rock. Broken furniture and a partially collapsed wall on the west side adorned the floor. T'osa sat down behind the controls and withdrew a box, slightly smaller than a shoebox, from her knapsack. "Clear off the transporter pad while I hook up this power supply." She ordered. Still caught up in the moment, Kirk did as instructed and moved the stone and broken furniture away from the pad. Within a few minutes, the transporter controls hummed to life. "Excellent," she proclaimed.

"I guess we don't need to find the other transporter room," Kirk replied with his digitized voice, audibly relieved.

She started programming the transporter. "Good thing. I was kind of guessing about the second transporter room."

"Excuse me?" Stephen cocked his head.

"Well, I knew there would be a public transporter pad in the central government building. I assumed there would be one behind the old Senate council room. I wasn't looking forward to having to find it." She continued programming.

"Wait... don't you have blueprints to this building?" He was getting a little concerned now.

She shook her head. "The records went up with the city. I remembered where the capital building was from some pictures we looked at in school." Stephen was suddenly much less confident about this plan. T'osa stood up. "Okay, it's programmed in. It'll send us over to the secondary transporter room of the warbird..." she took his arm and walked him onto the transporter. "in just a few moments. In an hour, it'll beam back whatever is on that transporter pad. It better be us." As they stood on the transporter pad, it began to glow.

"An hour?" Kirk looked at her. "What's out backup plan if this doesn't work?"

Greenish gold swirls of energy began encircling them. "What backup plan?" She replied. Their images vanished from the transporter pad. 


	26. Chapter 26

The green swirls of energy faded. Stephen found himself standing in a darkened romulan transporter room. From the dim glow of the transporter room panel as well as the door panel, there was at least some power getting to the ship. Without a backup escape plan, without backup, without his captain's knowledge, he was now aboard a romulan warbird in a repair depot. I am SO dead, he thought.

T'osa removed a small device from her pocket and pressed a few buttons. "Okay, we need to be back here in less than an hour." She looked around and smiled. "I figured there would be at least minimal power on the ship."

"Another guess?" Kirk asked, slightly exasperated. What... did she WANT them to get caught?

"An educated guess." She batted her eyebrows and headed for the door. "Let's go. We've got some ground to cover. The transponder system is underneath engineering." Pressing the controls next to the door, it slid open.

As she stepped out into the darkened hallway, Stephen drew her back in. "Hang on a sec." his robotic voice urged. "Won't there be guards on board?"

She shook her head. "There shouldn't be. The guards should be patrolling the moonbase." That was a lie. She was planning on the guards being aboard. In order for her plan to work, they HAD to be aboard. If they didn't come across the guards... well... she thought it better to not think of it. She stepped out into the hall and shined her light. "Follow me." Stephen opened his wrist panel and made a few more adjustments to his gear before following her.

The two walked down the nondescript hallway. Doors and computer panels lined either side. Unlike a Federation starship, which was usually brightly colored, the contruction of the inside of a romulan ship was just as drab a green as the outside. Stephen wondered what was on the other side of the doors they passed. "Exactly where are we on this ship?" He asked.

"We're in the back section, behind the warp emitters. We're on the third level, though, and we need to get to level twenty-two." As they walked, she was looking around. "That's what we want." she remarked. She pointed to a door on the far wall. "Transport module." She pressed a button on the side of the door and it slid open. The two stepped in. "Szhersh," she exclaimed as the door slid shut. She spun a dial on the opposite wall of the small, square room they were in. A panel next to the dial swung open. She started manipulating cables and control panel buttons.

Assuming there was a problem, Kirk leaned over and observed her work. He wasn't an electronics genius by any stretch of the imagination, but he could recognize a hotwire job when he saw one. "Problem?" He asked.

"Yes," she answered. "a small one. They cut the power to the lift system. I'm trying to start it back up." This was actually a lucky break for her. Not only would she be able to get the lift system working, but the noise in the otherwise dead spaceship should bring the patrols coming. "It should only take a moment to override the controls."

"And where did you learn how to hotwire a transporter panel AND an elevator?" He asked.

"They teach you all kinds of neat stuff at spy school," she said sarcastically. Electronics was actually a family speciality. Her family had been a household of mechanics and engineers for as far back as she could remember. The only hold out had been her younger brother, who had "completely disgraced" the family by going into landscaping. Somehow, she had never had as much disdain for B'athre as her father. Then again, her father expressed his disappointment in her when she joined the Tal'Shiar... so maybe she would just be forever relegated to not understanding her father. With one more adjustment, the control panel illuminated the small room. "Got it." She added, then pressed the buttons to send them to level twenty-two. Hopefully, that would bring the guards, but not too quickly.

They exited the lift once it reached their desired level. Again, the same style of drab green hallway was laid before them. "How confusing," Stephen remarked. "How do you ever figure out where you're going?"

T'osa took a moment to get her bearings, then turned to the right. "Yeah," she nodded, "the ship designers did this on purpose to make it harder for intruders to figure out where everything was. There was a left turn, a right turn, two more left turns, and yet another right turn before they came to a door. She tried a number of button combinations on the door panel before standing back with a frustrated look on her face. "It's security locked. My access codes won't open it." She drew her disruptor from its holster. "This should open it. Stand back." Kirk did as instructed as she fired on the door panel. There was a slight hiss as the thin double doors opened a bit. An alarm began to sound throughout the hall. 

"Brilliant. If there ARE guards, you'll bring them right to us." He was really starting to wonder about this 'plan' of her's. It sounded almost foolproof when he heard it the first time.

"If there ARE guards, we'll be long gone by the time they get here," she replied. She holstered her disruptor and reached for the door. "Help me open this."

The doors slid open reluctantly with a whine to reveal a very small room with a single computer panel. As the two walked in, T'osa stopped him short. "I need you to stay out here and hold the doors open."

"Why? They're broken."

"If I read the specs on this right, once I try to gain access to this computer, I'll trip some kind of security mechanism. It'll magnetize the doors and slam them shut. If you can keep them apart, we can get out. Otherwise, we're trapped in here until these guards of yours show up."

"Great," he retorted. He braced himself between the doors and put his feet against the opposing door. "It'll be just my luck these things slice me in half."

"I doubt they have that much pressure," she commented. Truly, she had no idea, but she had tried to sound confident. With that, she turned around and started pounding away on the computer panel. Within moments, another alarm sounded, adding to the noise.

Stephen immediately felt pressure against his back and feet. It hurt for a moment until he could re-adjust his body to it. "Ow... that security system of yours is working. How much longer are you going to be?"

"Give me just a few seconds." He fingers danced along the panel, searching for the right string of commands to issue. Somewhere was the name of the person who changed this ship's identification to hide it's true identity. Skillfully, she maneuvered through the menu options and data entries until she found her name. Her jaw dropped. She was hoping it wasn't him... she had always considered him a patriot... truly loyal to the Empire. Was it possible she was on the wrong side all along?

Kirk struggled to see what T'osa was looking at, but since he couldn't read romulan, he gave up and decided to concentrate more heavily on keeping the doors open.

"Laemna! Keisa! Kaeha gaih!" He heard a distinctly male voice yell from down the hall. He wasn't sure what it meant, but it couldn't be good.

"We've got company," he announced as he rolled his eyes. He definately did NOT want to get shot again. 


	27. Chapter 27

"What?" T'osa replied. Okay... THAT was bad timing. Why couldn't they have showed up as they were leaving or getting there? The alarms continued to sound as she offloaded the information to a data device she brought. "I'm almost done."

"Computer; enhance audio of approaching romulans. Determine number and distance," he said to himself. The onboard computer quickly began projecting intermediate calculations through the small, round, visual receptors in his mask.

A soft, female, computerized voice originated from within the mask. "Romulan count; two. Proximity; nine point three meters and closing at point nine six meters per second."

"Too late," he proclaimed to T'osa. He jumped clear of the door. It immediately slid shut with a click. It had been a couple of weeks since he worked out last. Hopefully, that wouldn't be too much of a determinent. A minor tingle in his right side reminded him of his fresh surgery. He shook his head quickly. Thoughts like these were distracting. He dropped to a three point stance, took several breaths and closed his eyes. 

breath His heart rate slowed.

breath His mind cleared.

breath Stephen could hear the breathing of the incoming romulans.

breath His muscles tensed.

Romulans were physically similar to vulcans. They are stronger and more durable than humans. One strike most definately would not be sufficient to incapacitate one. He opened his eyes as two tall, thin romulan guards came around the corner. They have been rather inexperienced. Although their weapons were in-hand, they weren't ready to fire.

Kirk launched from his three-point stance at the guard on the right, grabbing his weapon and pushing it to the side with both hands. He shot his left foot at the weapon the left guard was holding and pinned his hands to the corner. Surprised and pained, the guard instinctively dropped the weapon. As the right guard staggered backwards from the surprise attack, Kirk took the opportunity to twist the disruptor free as the left guard dove for his fallen weapon. Stephen quickly tossed the disruptor down the hall where the transponder room was located.

His left foot back on the ground, he quickly shot his right foot at the right guard's chin. It connected solidly forcing him to take several steps back. The left guard retrieved his weapon with his left hand and spun around. Kirk caught the guard's left hand with his right as he turned, however, and continued his spin so that he pinned his left arm to the wall just past the corner. With his left hand in a fist, Kirk struck the romulan's pinned wrist. The guard let out a cry as he dropped the weapon yet again. The guard swung wildly with his right hand and grazed Kirk's cheek as he attempted to avoid the blow. Despite missing the total force of the punch and the lining of the mask, it still stung. The rumors were right; romulans WERE quite strong.

Kirk arced his left knee into the left guard's stomach. The romulan winced, but continued to break free of Kirk's grip on his left hand. He could sense the other guard was beginning to move towards him. Stephen repeated the knee kick four more times in rapid succession before the romulan in front of him bent forward in pain. Taking the opportunity, Kirk grabbed him by the back of his neck with one hand, the romulan's rear end with the other, and shoved him into the opposite wall. The romulan hit the ground with a thud and a moan.

Stephen spun around to see the right guard charging him, his right fist drawn. As the right guard approached, he threw the punch. Kirk easily grabbed his right hand and forced the romulan to continue his swinging arc into the farside wall next to his partner. He cried out in pain, then shot a foot backwards towards Kirk's face. The left guard forced himself to his knees.

Kirk caught the foot of the right guard and held it as he shot his own foot into the back of the head of the kneeling left guard. The romulan's head went flying back into the wall. With that second hit, the left guard crumpled to the ground motionless. The right guard wrenched his foot free, then spun around and struck Stephen in the chest with his left hand. Thankfully, the vest absorbed most of the force, but the impact made Stephen take two steps back.

The remaining guard seized the opportunity and charged Stephen again, both arms out, meaning to grapple with him. Kirk watched him approach then, at the last moment, shot both his fists straight out at the oncoming romulan. Both fists impacted the guard's chest. He gasped for air and abruptly stopped, staring blankly at the masked intruder. Kirk sized up his opponent, then shot his right leg up and out at the dazed romulan's head. It hit squarely in his face, causing green blood to drip from his nose. He staggered back and dropped to one knee. The guard's dialeted eyes desperately looked for a weapon, but none was to be found.

Stephen spun around in a circle and shot his left leg out. Once again, it connected with the side of the guard's head. The now helpless guard spun a half circle as he fell the rest of the way to the ground. Kirk stared at him for several seconds, then grew amazed as the guard began to stir. You've got to be kidding me, he thought. He took a few steps over to the prone guard, raised his right foot, then brought it down with authority on the romulan's head. There was a dull thud as the romulan's head hit the ground and bounced.

As Stephen headed back to the transponder room, the right guard began to moan. Kirk shook his head. As the romulan started moving his hand, Kirk raised him up by his head, then drove his left knee into his face. The force of the shot sent the romulan on his back. He hit the ground with a thud. Satisfied the two guards were finally incapacitated, he returned to the now closed door of the transponder room.

He stared at the door curiously as he saw sparks coming from the upper left corner of the door. "What are you doing?" He yelled at the door.

"Trying to cut the electricity to the doors!" came the muffled sound of T'osa on the other side. "I don't suppose that guard had a weapon?" She asked. She had been trying to cut her way out since the fighting started, but had barely gotten two centimeters.

"There were two guards," he answered with pride, "and, yes... they both had hand disruptors."

"You're my hero!" She shot back sarcastically. "Grab one and help me burn through this door."

He grabbed the disruptor he kicked down the hall. "Nice to know you care about my well being." He replied with his own sarcasm.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she replied. The sarcasm was virtually dripping from the door. "Are you alright?"

He began fidgeting with the slider setting, trying to figure out the maximum discharge setting. "I'm fine. Thanks for asking." Actually, his side did hurt considerably. "I think I have this one at maximum setting. Stand back and I'll just blast the doors."

"No, no, no!" She screamed. "The doors are shielded. You have to readjust the beam and power level setting and cut through it at the edge like I'm doing."

He started resetting the controls. "How do you know that?"

"I almost took my head off a few minutes ago when I tried it." She answered. "Move the slider on the top left of the disruptor down to half. Press the third symbol from the top in the middle of the panel, then rotate the dial on the right to the second lowest setting. Then, press the disruptor against the edge of the door and pull the trigger. Start at the bottom."

He made the adjustments, then put the disruptor to the bottom left corner of the door. He pulled the trigger and sparks began to shower the hall. "We'll have you out of there in no time." He remarked.

"I hope so," she replied from the other side. "We only have twenty-two minutes before the transporter goes off!" 


	28. Chapter 28

With the knowledge of a very pressing time limit, the cutting seemed to go very slowly. Eventually, the two cutting beams met just below the halfway point. "Okay, stand back!" T'osa yelled from inside the room. Kirk stepped to the side of the door. With a loud bang, she kicked the door open. It swung wide, the lingering magnatism acting as a hinge to the other door. Immediately, it stuck to the outside of the other door with a loud clang. T'osa ran out, the left side of her hair a little singed.

"Wow," Stephen said, looking at her hair, "you DID almost take your head off."

She cocked her head momentarily. "I know... I was there." She grabbed his hand and started back down the main hall. "We have to get out of here." Very quickly, she broke into a full run.

Kirk sprinted up to her. "How much time do we have?" His computerized voice asked.

She quickly withdrew her timer and looked as she ran. "Eleven minutes... and it took us almost twenty minutes to get to the transponder room." Seeing he could still run at a brisk pace with the equipment, she picked up her pace.

He sped up as well. "See... this is why you have a backup plan!"

The two sprinted around the corner. Too late to react, they saw a pair of romulan guards running down the opposite end of the hall towards them. Their weapons were already drawn. A heartbeat later, a green line of disruptor fire struck T'osa, knocking her against the back wall. Another beam struck Stephen in the chest. The impact threw him backwards to the floor. 


	29. Chapter 29

Kirk heard the footfalls of the guards as they ran up. Thankfully, it was a stun setting, so the vest absorbed most of the energy. The fall, unfortunately, knocked the wind from his lungs, so he couldn't move. With the receptors in his mask re-orienting to the side, he could see one of the guards removing a communicator from her pocket. Desperately, he tried to fill his lungs with air enough to groan. Hopefully, one of them would come over to investigate. It was his only chance.

It was more of a gasp than a groan, but it worked. The male guard walked over to Stephen and gave him a gentle nudge in the side with his boot. Using what little strength he had, Stephen wrapped his arm around the guard's foot and rolled towards him. Kirk had rolled himself on top of the guard's leg, throwing him off balance and backwards against the hallway wall. It also rolled Stephen onto his back, where the absorbtion armor in his vest was thicker. Instinctively, the female guard raised her weapon and struck Stephen in the back. He slumped over and decided to 'play dead' while his lungs filled with air once more. It wasn't hard, even with the armor, the disruptor impact still stung like crazy.

Warily, painfully, the male guard wrestled his now sprained foot from the 'unconscious' intruder's grasp and backed away cautiously. Meanwhile, the female guard took a step forward. Kirk's whole body ached from the shots. The one thing he was trying to AVOID was getting shot... now he had been shot TWICE. His side was particularly painful. He guessed his stitches had pulled loose. Using eye movement, he reoriented the receptors in his mask to look behind him. Through the pain, he could feel movement coming back to his body. He began his meditations once again to force the pain back and to focus his mind on the task at hand. He would be ready to move when the moment was right.

The female guard kicked his legs once, then twice. Stephen didn't move. The male guard kicked his rear end. Again, Stephen kept from moving. The female barked some kind of order to the male. Slowly, his weapon still pointed at Stephen, he reached for Stephen's shoulder. This would be his moment. The guard grabbed his shoulder. Cautiously, the guard turned Kirk over so he was on his back. Stephen allowed his hands and legs to fall outward and prone. Even more cautiously, the guard reached for Stephen's mask.

Stephen snapped his fingers on his right hand. It made a dull, rubbery sound. For a moment, the guard moved his gaze onto Stephen's prone right hand. That diversion was all Kirk needed. His right leg quickly retracted back and caught the male guard in the stomach, forcing him backwards towards the female guard. The female, unable to get a clean shot, tried to move the male out of the way. The male, being moves backwards and to the side, couldn't get a clean shot, either.

In too much pain to simply hop up, he spun around on the ground so he was on his stomach facing them. He slid his knees under his stomach, looking a bit like a frog about to jump. Instead, he used his momentum to lunge himself at the female guard as she was tossing the male out of the way. The two collided as the male guard was knocked to the wall again. Kirk and his assailant fell to the floor. The female guard, still holding her weapon, attempted to aim it at Stephen while he drew his right elbow up. He dropped his elbow into her chest before she could finish aiming. She grimmaced in pain as the air left her lungs. He grabbed her fairly limp hand holding the disruptor and aimed the weapon at the male guard as he turned around. Kirk fired at him as he raised his weapon. Even with the stun setting, the romulan guard was thrown several meters down the hall, near T'osa's unconscious body.

Kirk could feel the female guard beginning to resist him. She had regained her breath and was starting to wrestle with Stephen for the weapon. Finding it a stalemate, she instead raised both her legs up, tossing Kirk over her own body and landing him on his back with a painful thud. He let go of the disruptor as it twisted his wrist on the way over. Fighting back the fresh pain, he spun around on the ground again as the female guard tried to regain her feet. He launched at her a second time as she began to stand. Still in the process of repositioning the weapon in her hand, it went flying down the hall as the two fell to the floor again. She drew her left leg back intent on striking him in the head. He quickly let go of her as her foot flew backwards. He caught it centimeters away from his face and twisted it until it popped. She let out a cry in pain, then tried to scamper forward.

Stephen got to his knees, breathing heavily. He was definately out of shape. It was then that he saw what she was moving towards... the other guard's disruptor. Jumping in the air from his kneeling position, he projected both his fists forward. He landed on top of her, his fists planting deeply in her back, just below her ribs. She let out another scream and collapsed back to the ground. As she struggled to at least push herself off the ground, Stephen moved up her back, then grabbed her head. I am SO going to hate myself for doing this, he admitted to himself. He pulled her head back, then threw her forehead to the ground with a loud smack. Momentarily, she went limp. Then, in another proof of romulan durability, her arms started to move.

Kirk lunged for the disruptor himself as she feebly attempted to grab at his legs. He took the weapon, pointed it at her as she looked up at him, an open wound on her forehead, and pulled the trigger. The weapon discharged and struck her squarely in the back. She went limp and collapsed to the ground.

Stephen staggered to his feet. There was no telling how much time they had lost, but with T'osa still unconscious, they probably wouldn't make the transporter in time. 


	30. Chapter 30

Taking the disruptor near her, he gently patted T'osa's cheeks. "Come on," he urged.

Eventually, she moaned and looked at him with glazed eyes.

"We have got to go," he insisted. Putting his shoulder under her arm, he strained to lift her up. Still being mostly unconscious, she didn't help. The strain on his muscles, the pain of his injuries, and the ache of his body made the lifting even harder. "This is the last time I trust you as a travel agent."

"Huh?" Her eyes were still crossed and glazed.

"You have to help me a little!" He urged. Still mostly on her knees, and more out of reflex than actual though, she weakly moved her legs forward. With that help, he was able to pick her up. The two staggered down the hallway and to the lift. By then, T'osa had enough presence of mind to operate it. Once the lift was moving, they both collaped to the floor. Kirk's side was killing him. From within his suit, he could feel dampness and suspected he had defintely torn some of his stitches. That will be fun to explain, he thought.

"Stephen," she whispered, "I am so sorry." Her mind now becoming clear, she could remember everything that had happened. She couldn't see his face, but by his body movements, she could tell he was in pain. T'osa had hoped to run into the guards, but with her present. Then, she would have been able to help, at least subtly. Encountering two pairs of guards, without her as a backup, was not in the plan. A wave of guilt washed over her. She asked for his trust. She asked for his help in the name of trust. That trust almost got them both killed... and it wasn't over yet. She had gotten what she wanted, and she was able to use him as a pawn to get it. By romulan standards, she should have been proud. Why did she feel so horrible?

"Did you get what you needed?" He asked her through deep breaths.

She nodded. That question stirred her memory yet again.

"Who altered the logs?"

"Movaare, the head of my department," she said slowly. He was also her mentor. He had specifically requested she join his department five years ago. If he was part of this; then was this the true patriotic thing to do? Could she have been wrong to be blindly obedient to her government? Her body hurt, her mind was numb, and her soul ached with guilt. Yet another realization hit her as her eyes bulged. "Oh, no!" she exclaimed as she frantically rummaged through her pockets.

"What?" Kirk asked as the lift doors opened.

She pulled out her timer. She looked, then rested her head back against the wall. She then turned the timer to face Stephen. "We're three minutes too late." 


	31. Chapter 31

The two staggered into the transporter room, T'osa feeling more like herself and Stephen fighting to take each step. Kirk looked at the transporter panel. As he noticed the blinking lights, a thought occurred to him. "Why can't we use this to get back to the surface?"

"Because they'd know where we went. They'd be right behind us," She answered dejectedly.

"Wouldn't the romulan satellites or something track us as soon as we hit the ground, anyway?" This whole plan sounded lousy, now that he was in it.

She raised an eyebrow and looked at him curiously. "What kind of planet are you from? We don't monitor every square meter of Romulus. Do you have any idea how many monitoring systems that would take? That's why I had us beam out of the old capital. No one ever monitors that."

He narrowed his eyes and leaned forward towards her. "You mean the only thing keeping us from using this transporter is because it'll know where we went?"

She nodded.

He threw his backpack on the floor and opened it frantically. "Open the panel of the console. I need to find the memory buffers." He said quickly.

Not knowing what he was up to, she obediently pulled the panel off that was under the console. Kirk removed a handheld device with a pair of cables dangling from it. He also removed a small box. Still on the floor, he crawled over to the exposed mechanism. "Where is the buffer located?"

She pointed to two places. "It's either that one or that one. I'm not sure which."

He nodded then opened the box, which contained numerous fittings. He pulled a pair of fittings from the box and placed them on the ends of the cables, then attached them to one of the boxes under the console. "Start pressing buttons like you're using the transporters."

"Okay," she said, still confused. She pressed the 'initialize' button. Without a destination, the unit simply powered up, then powered down.

Kirk shook his head. "Okay, that's not it. Keep pressing." He removed the cables from one box, then placed them on the other box. The device began lighting up whenever she pressed the button. "That's it!" He turned to T'osa. "Can you locate a nice, quiet spot near your home?"

She nodded. "I think so. It'll take a few moments to punch up the maps." She turned to face the console.

"Okay... hang on a sec. Let me start this thing up." He pressed a few buttons on the device.

"What IS that thing?" She asked quizzically.

"It's a little toy we used to use in special ops. We used it to erase logs, digital recordings, computer files, and stuff... basically, anything that uses computer memory. It plants a little virus that erases whatever is input into it. So, once I start recording, you just start typing... and when I load the program, it starts erasing everything you typed." He pointed to her. "Do it."

She smiled. "Now that's a neat toy. I need to get one of those." She began loading the maps of her neighborhood.

"Where I'm from, it's called a backup plan." He reached for his backpack and loaded up the box.

"Ha, ha," she said sarcastically. "Okay, here it is. I'm putting in the coordinates. We'll be right across the street."

"Great... give it a five second delay, then step onto the pad." 

She did as instructed. T'osa put her finger above the key to start the sequence. "Ready?"

"Go." She pressed the button.

"Five," she began counting. Stephen pressed the button to stop the keystroke recording.

"Four," With a few more keystrokes, he started the virus program. She stepped onto the transporter pad.

"Three," Stephen waited nervously as the program downloaded.

"Two!" Her voice became quite frantic. The device signaled it had finished. He removed the clips from the console.

"Now would be a good time!" She yelled.

He grabbed his backpack and lunged at the transporter as the base began to illuminate. 


	32. Chapter 32

When the shimmering swirls of green and gold faded, Stephen and T'osa found themselves on Romulus. Just as she said, they were right across the street from her home. He tucked his memory device back into his backpack, then slung it across his back. 

"Come on," she said quickly. "We're almost there." They waited in the darkness between two buildings until a small exchange of vehicles flew past. When the way was clear, they sprinted across the street to the back of her home, then climbed up the escape ladder to her balcony. As they made their way inside, she quickly darted for the biorhythm emulator and turned it off as Stephen turned off the emulator in his suit. Dropping to her knees, she breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

Stephen ducked into T'osa's bedroom to take off the suit and put it back. As he staggered back, pain wracked his body. The adrenaline was wearing off. It kicked back in when he heard the sound of sirens in the distance. "Tell me that's just a coincidence," he pleaded as he headed to the bedroom. 

She shushed him and motioned to the video display still replaying their conversation from a few days ago. As she snuck up towards him, she whispered. "It might be, but we need to look cozy, just in case."

The two went into the bedroom. She quickly started taking off the black jumpsuit she had changed into. As Kirk was in the process of painfully removing his vest, he noticed her quickly becoming disrobed. "You know... I'm in here," he whispered loudly.

She shook her head. "We can't afford modesty now. Just pretend you didn't see me." She stripped down to her underwear; a form supporting midriff tank top and barely discernable panties. Kirk made a mental note on how curvacious she really was under her uniform. She was quite pleasant to look at. Carelessly tossing her clothes in a hamper, the plucked a robe from the back of her door and threw it on. Turning back to Stephen, she smiled. Obviously, he liked what he saw. For some reason, despite everything that had happened, that made her feel happy. "You can pick your jaw off the floor," she remarked with a smile.

Stephen shook his head. What was he THINKING? With great effort, he peeled off his suit. As he feared, several of the stitches of the skin graft on his right side had pulled loose. It was still bleeding.

T'osa opened the door, then turned back to see how far Stephen had gotten. The sight of the open wound took her aback. "By the gods." she exclaimed. "We need to bandage that."

Suddenly, there was a pounding on the door. On the other side, muffled voices yelled "Sihaer Morairi!"

She dashed out towards the door. "As soon as we've ditched the town guard, we'll patch that up." She ran out.

With great effort, he put his civilian clothes back on, tucking part of his black suit in between his wound and his shirt. Shoving the rest of his outfit into the backpack, then stuffing it under her bed, he staggered out into the living quarters and sat down.

T'osa was standing by the video screen as he sat down. She turned off the playback as the guards pounded the door again more loudly. Feigning an indignant look, she yelled, "By the nine rings, this better be important!" She unlocked and threw open the door.

She was greeted by three town guards, each holding a disruptor. "We're looking for a pair of intruders. We were told they were in this viscinity."

She tapped her foot. "It's just been us all night. And don't even think of asking. I already received permission to have a human here."

"Actually," the tall, well-built guard shuffled, looking at small display in his off-hand, "we're looking for a romulan and... a reman."

T'osa cocked her head. "I certainly don't remember seeing any remans running through my home." She turned back to Stephen, who was trying his best to disguise is pain and discomfort. "Do you remember seeing any remans running through the place?" She asked sarcastically.

He looked apologetically at the guards. "Can't says I have."

In the meantime, more guards were pounding on doors of nearby homes. The forward guard took a good look around. T'osa grew impatient. "Would you like to look inside? My home isn't that big."

The guard took one last look. "No... that won't be necessary. If you see or hear anything out of the ordinary, contact us." He gave Stephen one more, critical look, then nodded. "Sorry to have troubled you." He turned to his partners. "To the next door." The three headed across the walkway. T'osa closed the door slowly, crossed the room, then collapsed on the couch next to Stephen. Still shocked from the whole evening, Stephen just sat there, staring at the door, trying to forget the aches.

"By the gods, Stephen... we pulled it off." There would be one, final loose end to tie up. 


	33. Chapter 33

"That looks terrible," Dr. Rass remarked, looking at the re-opened sore on Stephen's right side. "Didn't I tell you to take it easy for at least a week?" He voice was a bit preturbed.

It was just last night, but it seemed so long ago. He supposed part of that was due to him sleeping for fourteen hours straight. Still, the field bandaging T'osa had performed on him stopped the bleeding, so at least he could sleep. "Sorry," Stephen offered. "I wasn't expecting things to get that far out of hand."

"Look at this bruising, too," Dorrin commented, looking curiouly at the bruise on his chest and cheek. "How in the world did all this happen?" Rass removed the dermal regenerator from its drawer and began recalibrating it.

"Um..." Kirk stumbled for the words. He was never a good liar. "I was... excercising."

Finished with the calibrations, the doctor began applying it to the fresh wound. "Exercising?" He looked incredulous. "What kind of exercising were you doing? I thought you were on Romulus yesterday."

"I was," Kirk replied wincing as the skin began to regraft onto itself.

"Then what were you..." a look of recognition crossed the doctor's face. His eyes bulged as a smile crossed his face. "Oh!" He nodded. "Never mind... never mind. Who would have thought romulan women liked to play rough." Rass elbowed Stephen in the shoulder. "I guess there's a little klingon in those women as well as vulcan, eh?"

Kirk smiled. He really didn't like the idea of the doctor thinking he was promiscuous. Not only was it against his faith, but it would be just one MORE comparison between him and his great grandfather. "I guess so," he offered meekly.

"She must mean a lot to you," he concluded, his voice getting softer. The repairs complete, the doctor put the regenerator back in its drawer.

"How do you figure?" Stephen was genuinely interested in knowing how the doctor came to that conclusion.

"You don't strike me as the kind of person who would go and do something rash like that."

Rash... that would certainly have described his actions as of late. What WAS he feeling towards her? She was a spy, after all. For all he know, she was trying to get him caught in order to stage an intergalactic incident. If that was the case, surely it must have backfired. I mean, what plan would have involved getting trapped in the transponder room and getting shot by a disruptor? In the end, her plan almost got him killed. "I didn't think I was, either," he countered, staring at the ceiling. "And I probably won't be ever again."

Doctor Rass smiled. "'probably won't'... that sounds so... indefinite." He helped Stephen off the medical bed. "You're still cleared to return to work tomorrow."

"Thanks, doc." Kirk said with a weak smile. He put his shirt on and slowly walked towards the door.

"Oh, Commander," Dorrin called after him. Kirk turned around. "If that 'probably won't' turns into a 'probably'... you might want to consider some protection... like body armor."

Kirk considered his statement. "I'll keep that in mind." 


	34. Chapter 34

Agent T'osa sat in a chair in the middle of a darkened room. One single, overhead light illuminated her seat. Before her was a familiar semicircular desk with five chairs. Small lights illuminated the various work areas in front of the chairs. The various department heads of the Tal'Shiar sat down. As always, the details of the room were completely obscured from view by darkness.

The deep voice of Commander Movaare was the first to speak. "Agent T'osa, you have been praised for the quality of your work until now. I'm disappointed by your failure. Did you simply forget the mission?"

"Sir," she started cautiously, "as I stated in my report, I thought the guards were part of the plan."

"You can't honestly expect me to believe you confused security guards with Tal'Shiar operatives." He countered accusingly.

"Again, Sir, as stated in my report, I had gotten locked in the transponder room during the first attack. I was shot before I could identify the assailants during the second attack."

"The agents were supposed to respond to your signal, T'osa... a signal you never sent."

"He was with me the entire time. He didn't trust me completely. After the second attack, I assumed you had other monitoring us and had sent agents on your own." Please buy that, she pleaded with herself.

"That WOULD have been a good failsafe plan, Movaare." Another department commander offered.

"I told you before, that wasn't feasible. We had no idea what kind of sensing equipment he would have brought with him. Agent T'osa was our only option. I thought you told me he was attracted to you. Why didn't he trust you?"

"I believe it's because I'm a romulan, Sir," she replied coldly. "It will take time for romulans and humans to trust one another."

"I see," Movaare said cautiously. He changed the subject and went back to his official, deep voice. "Your report fails to mention why he wanted information from the transponder room. I thought you were taking him to a computer console on the bridge."

Okay... she knew that question was coming. She had prepared ahead of time. Here's hoping they believed her. "Somehow, he discovered the vessel they neutralized had disappeared from the moonbase it flew into. After doing more research, he discovered it never left the base. He approached me with the new identity of the Haakona. Once we got aboard, he wanted to see the transponder records to see who changed its identification."

"What?" One of the department commanders barked. "Someone's changing transponder codes? What's this all about?" T'osa squinted her eyes in the darkness in an attempt to see the shadowed face of whoever was as shocked about the news as she was. It was Commander D'nova. Possibly, hopefully... she may have an ally in her.

Commander Movaare held up his hand towards D'nova. "Did you discover who changed the transponder code?"

Now... for the BIG lie. "No, Sir. The guards were on us too quickly. Commander Kirk left the transponder room door, which slammed shut behind him. I spent the rest of my time trying to burn my way out."

Commander D'nova was still incensed. "I want to know more about this transponder issue."

Movaare was still calm. "This is an internal security matter, which falls under my jurisdiction. I have people working on it right now. We have reason to believe someone is selling falsified scrap parts to the Ferengi Alliance."

T'osa struggled to keep her expression emotionless. Apparently, she wasn't the only great liar in the room. Well, that settled it. She knew exactly whose side she was on now.

"The Ferengi?" D'nova didn't sound happy.

"I will deal with this. Let us stick to the matter at hand." His defensive voice became calm and deep once again. "T'osa, I believe your failed mission may have helped us after all. Ship records indicated a romulan and a reman boarded the ship. Without falsifying evidence, there's no direct way to implicate Commander Kirk in any wrongdoing. Considering the information he's aware of, that is probably to our benefit. We need to know what he knows... because if he knows... most likely, Starfleet knows. I need you to stay close to him. Win his trust... by any means necessary."

She knew exactly what he meant. Still, she remained emotionless. "That will be difficult to do, Sir, since they break orbit this afternoon, do they not?"

Movaare nodded. "Don't you worry about that. Wheels are already being put into motion that will afford you ample opportunties to... persuade him... to trust you."

That cryptic statement made T'osa shudder. The thought of using sex as a tool to manipulate Stephen made her sick. The knowledge she was taking orders from a traitor who was dealing with remans made her want to punch him dead in the face. Her jaw shifted with discomfort. "If you say so, Sir." was the only response she could manage.

His voice became ominous. "The only thing to concern yourself about, Agent T'osa is this... where do your loyalties rest?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Excuse me, Sir?"

He leaned forward into the lamplight. "Where do your loyalties rest, Agent? Do they rest with us, or with your target?"

She sat bolt upright in her chair. "My loyalty is where it has always been, Sir... with the Empire."

Commander Movaare sat back in his chair. "Excellent, Agent T'osa. Dismissed." 


End file.
